


Broken Fate

by idreamofignoct



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional, Eventual Smut, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Living Together, M/M, Married Characters, Married Life, Masturbation, Older Ignis, Older Noctis, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sentimental, Starscourge, bottom Ignis, established promptio, older gladio, older prompto, power bottom noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-28 06:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10077131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamofignoct/pseuds/idreamofignoct
Summary: Noctis knows death awaits him now that he's afflicted with Starscourge.  Now married to Ignis and living in Lestallum, the two make the most of every day they have together. But when an unknown enemy disrupts their lives, Noctis sets out in search of answers before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to check out [Stay With Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10017257) before reading this. It's the set up to this fic. 
> 
> Also, I'm not very good at writing m/m stuff so forgive me if it's waaaaaaaay below your expectations. The muse refused to let me proceed until she got in some sexy couch times for these guys. Kudos and comments are appreciated! Enjoy!

**Chapter One**

When Noctis Lucis Caelum married Ignis Scientia, it fulfilled a dream neither believed possible. But there was little in way of a honeymoon.

Noctis had limited memory of the move from Hammerhead to Lestallum. Ignis, somehow, someway, had come into possession of a few sleep aids. When he next woke, he was in an honest to gods bed, Ignis asleep beside him. He remembered leaning back against the pillows and thinking the worst was over.

Starscourge had other ideas. 

There were days Noctis courted the line between sanity and delirium because of pain. Days where he couldn’t keep anything down. Days sleep evaded him. Days the only thing Ignis could do was hold him while the pain worked itself out of his system. 

“Iggy?” he whispered, throat parched from an insatiable thirst, body shivering despite the blankets and feel of Ignis’s arms around him. 

Ignis pressed his lips to the nape of Noctis’s neck. “I’m right here. Try to rest now, Noct.” 

It went on like this for weeks. One morning after a particularly rough night, Noctis woke feeling as if he’d been trampled by a behemoth. Yet he was not so lost in his misery that he didn’t hear Ignis’s subdued crying at his back. It was the true wake-up call he needed. Ignis kept him together. He needed to keep Ignis together. From then on, Noctis resolved to work through, and eventually overcome, the pain. 

He ate a little more. Dragged himself out of bed, even though he needed to do so with Ignis’s help. Every time he collapsed, it only drove him to try harder. Soon, the intense pain receded. The bad mornings numbered in the fewer. The disease, for all intents and purposes, appeared to have gone dormant. Or Noctis simply learned to endure it better. Either way, he didn’t question it. Less pain meant he could enjoy his new life. 

The latter half of their first year of marriage felt more like a honeymoon. And Noctis, previously self-identifying as ‘not a morning person,’ found his relationship with them much improved. Another morning meant another day he lived. Another day spent with the man he loved.

Sometimes they’d linger in bed, saying nothing. Other times, they shared a slow but immensely satisfying lovemaking session. There were times where Ignis woke him with a passionate need, or Noctis pulled Ignis against him, not with tenderness but desire bordering on desperation. Their time together was a gift neither had any intention of wasting. 

***

As time passed. one of Noctis’s favorite morning activities with Ignis didn’t involve indulgent stays in bed. Shortly after they settled in Lestallum, they started spending a half hour or so on the balcony outside their bedroom. He treasured these moments of quiet contemplation. Neither knew what the day would bring. 

Noctis slouched in his chair- him and bad posture had yet to reach an agreement- his feet propped on the railing, a cup of coffee in hand. Ignis sat beside him, back straight, leg crossed over his knee, sipping his coffee with the same manner he always had. Between them, the old radio Prompto gave them played a tune from their youth. Ignis tilted his head toward the radio, a soft smile touching his lips. Noctis recalled Ignis favoring this band, resolved to ask Prompto to be on the lookout for any albums next time he checked in. 

Below, Lestallum gradually woke up to meet the day. A strange thing to refer to, since night was everlasting. Easier to say ‘night’ and ‘day’ instead of morning block, hour one, hour two, etc. Because the city had comings and goings at all hours, merchants, food vendors, and weapons suppliers all operated in shifts. Those departing for their beds waved to their relief. Ignis shifted his attention from the radio at the sound of morning greetings below. 

“It’s been a few weeks since that farmer’s been here,” he said. His ability to accurately identify people by their movements or voice still impressed Noctis. “Do you see anything of interest?”

Noctis peered over the railing. “Mm. Hard to tell from here,” he said. “You looking for something specific?”

“I heard he found a safe place to set up a greenhouse with a functioning UV light system. Leafy greens, mostly. You wouldn’t be interested.” Ignis took a peremptory sip of his coffee.

Noctis smirked. “I don’t dislike _all_ leafy greens, you know.”

“No. Just most of them.” Ignis smiled over at him. “I am pleased to have turned you onto cucumbers, at least.”

“Only if they’re pickles,” Noctis replied. “Spicier the better.” 

Ignis chuckled softly. “Then it’s a good thing I have some in the pantry.”

Noctis brightened. “You do?” 

“They should be ready in a few days.” 

Noctis glanced back at the happenings below, unashamed his smile was thanks to the promise of a pickle. He’d come a long way from the picky prince Ignis endured during their youth. 

“Speaking of food,” Ignis said, setting his coffee cup down. “Shall I start breakfast?”

Noctis prepared to decline when his stomach emitted a loud rumble. He rubbed his belly with a sigh. While he’d put some weight back on after those first few months, he was reluctant to let the moment end. He also knew the longer he delayed, the more insistent Ignis would become.

“Sure,” he said. “Want some help?” 

“Do you mean to actually help me or distract me?” Affection warmed Ignis’s teasing tone. 

Noctis’s laugh was sheepish. “Still upset about last night’s dinner, huh?”

“Procuring the ingredients for that dish took a lot of effort,” Ignis said matter-of-factly. “The least you could have done was wait until I finished cooking it before you- what was it you said? Wanted to have a different main course?”

Noctis grimaced. “Please tell me I didn’t actually say that.”

Ignis’s smile was just shy of mischievous. “Not with words anyway.”

“Uh huh. So, what you’re saying is it’s my fault the food burned? I don’t remember you exactly telling me I couldn’t change my order.” He couldn’t resist following the food metaphor. Ignis loved his puns, but seemed to favor the double entendre more. 

“You can be very…persuasive, Noct,” he replied, and Noctis, who distinctly recalled his method of persuasion, felt his face warm like a kid caught staring at his crush. “So, for the sake of our breakfast, I must respectfully decline your offer to help.”

Noctis laughed. He couldn’t help it. “All right, Iggy. I’ll wait to be served instead.” He arched a brow.

“That would be best.” 

Ignis leaned over invitingly. Noctis kissed him, only to gasp against his mouth when Ignis’s fingers lightly stroked the back of his neck. While not one of Noctis’s primary sweet spots, Ignis had enough magic in his hands to turn it into one. Noctis leaned into the kiss, wanting just a little more when- of course- Ignis pulled away. He smiled knowingly, took his leave. Noctis watched him go and shook his head. The master tactician scored another point. He leaned back in his chair to resume watching the activity below.

A few hunters appeared, exchanging greetings with the weapons merchant before setting to trade. Noctis recalled their stint as honorary hunters. Prompto told him their exploits became famous during Noctis’s ten-year absence. It was why he, Ignis, and Gladio were offered so many contracts at the time. 

“Got really good at holding my own,” Prompto stated with no small amount of pride. “Wish you could’ve seen it.”

“Don’t need to see it,” Noctis said, clapping him on the back. “I lived it with you.”

The praise generated one of Prompto’s nervous, disbelieving laughs, a throwback to their younger days. But then his face fell, and he sighed. “Wish we all could go back to the way it was.”

Understatement of the century. 

Noctis’s gaze drifted to a new pair of hunters, arms loaded with supplies. Looked to be a challenging hunt if the weapons being offered was any indication. At hearing the word ‘daemon’, his right arm tingled. He laid his hand over the inside of his forearm. Scar tissue still maintained the individual shapes of the Astral marks that once appeared there. Remnants of the fate once prescribed to him. The Starscourge itself drew a line through the marks, effectively changing the course of his life. 

He wondered, not for the first time, if Gladio would have targeted those marks.

 _“How much time do you think he really has?”_

_“How many will he kill before someone kills_ him?”

Noctis’s hand shook as Gladio’s words, the last they’d ever exchanged, rang in his memory. He hadn’t contacted them since that night in Hammerhead. Prompto did his best to encourage reconciliation, but Gladio didn’t budge. Noctis understood his reasons. Watching him die was simply too great a sacrifice, especially to someone whose primary duty revolved around ensuring he lived. 

Gladio had also been correct about how he’d be perceived.

Reports of the afflicted- that’s what they called them now- attacking people had risen over the past year. Anyone showing the mark of Starscourge wasn’t permitted within any settlement. A few kind-hearted souls sometimes would take them in, but the end was always the same: death. 

Noctis never knew what story Ignis concocted to ensure their privacy. He aided the deception by sequestering himself while Ignis went out on his daily errands. Noctis passed the time by exercising (his ability to warp and summon weapons was no longer an option), catching up on the last ten years (the Hunter HQ provided the local internet service), and viewing old videos and movies Prompto gave him. Sure, he went a little stir crazy at times. Small price to pay for a man who’d already accepted his death. As to when he’d meet the inevitable end…well. It was why he started making video logs for Ignis. He’d need something more than memories. For now, he needed to shower and change before going down to breakfast with him. 

He switched off the radio, cutting the newscaster’s report of open daemon hunts short, stood, stretched his stiff leg, and headed back inside.

The clock on the bedside table read 8 AM. All the lights were dimmed, giving the room a soft glow, as if in candlelight. The ceiling fan threw rapid shadows along the floor, its soft whir matched by the other two free-standing fans facing the room. The circulating air cooled Noctis’s skin as he stripped. He tossed the clothes into the basket on his way to the bathroom. He was decidedly more careful with the gold band he placed on the sink. It and its twin had been belated wedding gifts from Prompto. Noctis smiled at recalling the day they received them.

_Under Prompto’s eager eye, Noctis took Ignis’s hand and slipped the ring on. Ignis, a warm smile touching his lips, did the same for Noctis. Prompto gave a happy sigh, which was ultimately followed by the snap of a camera._

_“How did you manage to find them?” Ignis asked, slightly awed._

_At this, Prompto offered a self-conscious laugh. “Ah, well. That’s a story. You see, I was in Insomnia a week ago. Found a jewelry store. Didn’t know your sizes, so I grabbed all the trays I could carry.”_

_There was a brief silence before Ignis spoke. “You went all the way to Insomnia for rings?”_

_“Not just rings. Spare parts, too. But hey, I wanted to give you both something nice. What’s a married couple without rings?” He beamed at the pair._

_Noctis shook his head, but he couldn’t find it in him to be upset. It was just Prompto’s way. “What happened to the spare rings?”_

_“Gave them to Dino. He makes engagement rings now, can you believe it?”_

_“And he didn’t have to convince you to do his leg work this time around. How fortunate for him,” Ignis drawled, a smile on his face._

The memory of their laughter and Prompto’s red-faced sputtering faded into the back of his mind. Noctis caressed the ring’s smooth exterior with a finger, then ran the water.

After a shower and shave- Ignis was such a stickler about stubble- Noctis pulled on some lightweight pants and a short-sleeved shirt. As Noctis closed the dresser drawer, his gaze went to Ignis’s daggers, now affixed to the wall. A black eyeglass case sat on the shelf below it. The infamous spare. Noctis smiled, a sad, wistful smile, and headed downstairs. 

The living space was small but cozy, the furniture bearing hallmarks of hasty patching. A line of neatly organized shelves ran the length of the wall, shelves overflowing with books and items they’d obtained since arriving. Dozens of framed photos were interspersed among them, each one a time capsule to days where smiles were as regular as the sunrise. Prompto had been generous with his photos from their adventures. 

Noctis continued down the short hall connecting the living room to the kitchen. Ignis stood with his back to him, head down as he skillfully cut and separated ingredients. The echo of the coffee pot percolating, combined with the scent of steaming rice and the low murmur of the radio tucked into an alcove above the sink, completed the picture of domestic harmony. 

“Impatient to be served, I see,” Ignis said, never missing a beat as he tossed bits of meat into a frying pan. The hot oil hissed with each successive addition.

“I’m only here to wait, I promise. Unless you want me to distract you.” 

Ignis chuckled lightly. “Perhaps later. For now, could you address the coffee?”  
Noctis approached the counter. The pot trembled as the liquid inside bubbled. He selected two cups typically used for camping trips, then took the pot from the burner. Dark brown liquid splashed into each cup. Next, he added a few teaspoons of sugar to each. He offered one to Ignis to sample, who smiled his satisfaction. Noctis pressed a quick kiss to his lips because he couldn’t resist that smile. He carried the coffee cups toward the small table in the living room. Ignis unerringly made his way there, a pair of bowls in each hand. 

When he set one down in front of Noctis, his heart swelled with affection at Ignis’s choice of meal. “I remember when you first made this,” he said, taking his seat.

Ignis sent him a wry smile as he settled across from him. “Is that a request to relive the moment?”

“What? No. You burned into my memory.” Noctis chuckled as he picked up the spoon. “I’m just glad we had the ingredients for it.”

“Just about all we have left after yesterday’s fiasco.” 

Noctis groaned in mock dismay. “Not gonna let that go, are you?” 

“It’s been burned into my memory.” Ignis sipped his coffee.

Noctis laughed. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll just have to make it up to you.” 

Ignis, not missing his inference, smiled. “An excellent idea, Noct. Bon appétit.” 

As before on the balcony, they sat in companionable silence. Noctis finished first, easing back in his chair with a satisfied sound. “As good as I remember it.”

“It pleases me to hear that,” Ignis said, collecting his bowl and rising to his feet. “I may not be able to see your face, but I know that smile.” He reached for Noctis’s dish.

Noctis caught Ignis’s hand and rested it against his cheek. Emotion thickened his voice. “You can still see it, Iggy,” he murmured. 

For a moment, his expression appeared wistful. Sad. Then the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile brimming with tender affection. “Every day,” he said. His fingers traced the curve of Noctis’s cheek, the line of his jaw. Noctis pressed a kiss to his palm. The darkened glasses did little to hide the way Ignis’s eyes kindled. “Every day,” he repeated.

Noctis stood. His eyes never left Ignis’s face as he plucked the bowl from his hand and set it down. Next, he removed Ignis’s glasses. These, too, joined the bowl on the table. He lightly traced the edge of the scar over his left eye with his finger. Thought about the pain both endured over the years. The improbability of their being here, despite it all. And, as Noctis touched his lips to Ignis’s, he knew none of it mattered more than right now. 

It was a short walk to the couch. It groaned under their combined weight as Noctis pushed Ignis down. Hands roamed where they may as they kissed, Noctis’s fingers grasping at shirt buttons while Ignis tugged the bottom of Noctis’s shirt up. When his hands slid along his back, leaving him shivering from the want to feel his skin on his, Noctis finally got the last button undone. He pushed the shirt open, Ignis pulled his over his head, and their chests came together as their mouths did. 

The intensity of their desire left little room for tenderness. Noctis broke the kiss, undid Ignis’s pants, and slipped his hand past the opening. Ignis groaned low in his throat when Noctis touched him through his boxers. A large spot of moisture already dampened the front. Ignis’s excitement increased Noctis’s own. With a deft hand, he freed Ignis’s cock and stroked it, slowly, enjoying the satisfied sounds Ignis made at each caress. 

“Noct…” Ignis’s voice was strained with desire. He sucked in a breath when Noctis rubbed his thumb along the head. Whispered his name again. 

Already fit to burst thanks to his own arousal, Noctis pulled himself free, wrapped his hand around them both, and leaned forward to capture Ignis’s lips with his. Ignis responded hungrily, hands skimming along Noctis’s back. He pumped his hand a little faster, fingers slick from pre-come, and lost himself in the warmth and feel of Ignis moving beneath him. 

He pressed his brow to Ignis’s, heard the echo of his rapid breathing from his husband, felt his body start to quiver a little more with each stroke. Ignis tensed, signaling he was near release. He made a little sound, no more than a strangled whisper, as his hands caught Noctis’s face. It was the sexiest damn sound Noctis heard. It was enough to send him over the edge. Waves of pleasure coursed through him, he called out Ignis’s name as he came. Ignis gripped him as he climaxed. Noctis dimly felt his fingernails dig into his temples, didn’t care. 

The sense of being elevated into the stratosphere eased, bringing him slowly back to solid ground. His left hand remained around their sticky, gradually softening cocks. Shaking, breathless, but content, Noctis dropped his face to Ignis’s shoulder. Smiled when Ignis smoothed his hair back with the gentlest of touches. 

“If I didn’t know any better,” Noctis rasped. “I think you _like_ being distracted.”

Ignis chuckled lightly. “I cannot resist you,” he replied, kissing the top of his head. 

Noctis’s heart warmed at his words. “Yeah,” he said, nuzzling Ignis’s neck. The skull necklace he always wore rested at the base, a black circle against his skin. “You probably could have told me ‘no’ more than you did.”

“Better to indulge than endure a very moody prince,” Ignis replied sagely.

Noctis flashed a half smile. He knew better than to argue. 

They kissed a few more times before Noctis tended to their mess. With nothing on hand, he used his discarded shirt as a towel. Couldn’t keep from laughing when Ignis lamented about his lack of foresight. 

“Hey, distractions don’t plan ahead, okay?” he said, making certain not a drop remained on either. “I also can’t resist _you._ ”

At this, Ignis’s smile reflected in his eyes. “Then it seems we are each other’s weakness.”

“And strength.” Noctis leaned in to kiss him, a long, slow kiss that conveyed all his love, his gratitude, his happiness.

Ignis held fast to him.

Once Ignis tidied himself up, he ventured to the table to retrieve their empty bowls and his glasses. The echo of running water drifted into the room. Noctis reclined on the couch, content to relax when his phone rang. Because it was an older model with an unreliable battery, Noctis kept it on its charger. He reached for the box between the wall and couch, nearly sending its charging station to the floor.

“Hello?”

A gasp echoed from the other line. “Noct!” Prompto’s cheery voice cut through the static. He sounded as if he were taxing the limit of a cell tower. 

“Surprised?” Noctis teased.

“Damn right I am. Not used to you being awake this early, that’s all. Ignis usually answers.” 

“Well, you got me today. Where are you?” Noctis moved closer to the window facing the alley. It cleared the static, but not by much.

“By Old Lestallum. Was gonna join a hunt, but- listen, I heard something crazy the other day. You’re not gonna bel—” 

A burst of static cut him off. Noctis held the phone away from his ear with a slight grimace. “Prompto? I didn’t catch that.”

“- sorry, went through a tunnel,” Prompto said, his voice drifting in and out of the interference. He sounded at once very close and far away. “Anyway, I’ll be there as soon as I can. This is big, Noct. _Really_ big. Know what I mean?”

“I would if you’d just tell me what it is,” Noctis said, smiling through his exasperation. 

“Huh? I didn’t say? I hope you’re sitting down for this, buddy. People are saying there’s a—”

The line went dead.

Noctis frowned. “Hello? Hey, Prompto? You there?”

“Is something the matter?” Ignis asked, joining him.

Noctis set the phone back on the charger. “Prompto was telling me something. We got cut off before he finished. Said it was big news.”

“Did he say where he was calling from?”

“Old Lestallum. He’s ditching a hunt to come out here. Have any idea what his news could be?”

Ignis folded his arms across his chest. “Sadly, no. But if it’s worth him abandoning a hunt, then it must be important.”

Noctis nodded his agreement. Phone communication was always spotty nowadays. The abrupt disconnect didn't unsettle him. “It’ll be a few hours before he gets here. You going shopping?” 

“Yes. I’ll see about purchasing some ingredients for his favorite dishes.” Ignis offered him a wry smile. “It’ll be nice having someone around who appreciates vegetables.”

“Ha, ha.” Noctis’s laugh was dry.

He followed him to the door, hands in his pockets as he watched Ignis slip on his shoes. “Think you’ll be long?”

“It depends on the crowds and what’s available.” Ignis slipped an empty sack around his shoulder. He turned an understanding smile Noctis’s way. “I know you’d prefer to accompany me.”

“It’s not that. I kinda like the idea of staying in.” He made sure Ignis heard the enticing note in his voice.

Ignis touched his shoulder. His fingers warmed the skin beneath. “Then I’ll make haste. In the meantime, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Noctis grinned. The quip had been a favorite of theirs during their youth. “Same to you,” he said, and closed the distance between them for a kiss. Ignis took up his cane from its place on the wall- he only ever used it on market day- and exited the house.

Noctis watched Ignis until he disappeared among the throng of people clogging the streets. He lifted his gaze toward the dark, starless sky, sighed, and closed the door. With Ignis gone and Prompto not slated to arrive until later, Noctis slipped into his usual routine. 

After an hour of vigorous exercise, Noctis took another shower, then loaded up the tablet he used to make Ignis’s videos. As the light by the balcony proved the best, he turned one of the chairs round and sat. When he opened the tablet’s recording program, he saw himself with the rooftops of the neighboring buildings at his back.

He paused to compose himself. Most usually started off by him sharing a memory of the day (the distraction on the couch certainly qualified), then he’d drift off into other subjects, except the one that mattered most. 

He stared at his reflection, seeing the reluctance in his eyes. 

How the hell did you tell someone you loved you wanted them to be the one to kill you? 

Especially when that someone was Ignis?

Noctis’s eyes watered. He quickly wiped at his eyes. No. He couldn’t do it today. He couldn’t open this video recalling the morning’s events, only to cap it off with such a heart-wrenching request. Deciding to keep this message light, Noctis’s finger moved to the record button.

Reflected movement atop the rooftop at his back froze his finger in place. 

Closing the tablet, he set it down and stepped onto the balcony. His gaze drifted to the neighboring buildings. An old billboard advertising the power company stood atop the rooftop of the farthest one. Jagged strips of paper idly moved in the wind. He couldn’t tell if the moving shadows originated from the sign or not. The sense of eyes on him made him uncomfortable.

Frowning, Noctis returned to the room. His fingers curled around the door handles. As he started pulling them shut, a warm wind blew over him, carrying with it a scent that turned his blood to ice.

Oil and acrid metal, with a hint of blood.

Within seconds, three silhouettes sprang into the room. Noctis caught a glimpse of shining eyes, heard the echo of creaking metal, before his world went dark.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis searches for clues about the ones who attacked him and why they've taken Ignis. Runs into an old friend, who has suffered a tragedy of his own.

**Chapter Two**

Noctis fell onto his back, grabbing at the thick material of the bag one of his assailants had pulled over his head. His own hot breath pushed itself back into his mouth as he struggled. Strong legs pinned him at the waist. It kept him from bucking his attacker off. Breathing became more difficult. His vision spotted against the black underside of the cloth. Fear sharpened by anger kicked his survival instinct into action. There was the sense of energy being drawn toward him, like the instances he’d absorb magic from fonts around havens. Noctis seized the feeling and let loose.

A surge of strength flowed through his arms. When he struck his attacker’s chest, the weight on his hips vanished. Noctis quickly sat up and yanked the bag off his head. He had only seconds to identify the attackers as Magitek assassins before he went on the defensive.

One came at him, swords extended. Noctis wasn’t fast enough to avoid getting a shallow cut along his left arm. He dodged the second and third strike, moving himself into position to jump onto its back. The MT flailed wildly, twisting this way and that in its attempts to hit Noctis. He tightened his legs around its waist, used his arms to guide it. The third MT, targeting Noctis with an overhead strike, found itself pierced by its ally’s blades instead. Noctis pushed off with his legs, falling flat on his back as the two MTs cut into one another. He shot a swift glance toward Ignis’s daggers and sprinted across the room. 

A robotic hand latched onto his ankle, pulling him to the floor. Noctis glanced over his shoulder, teeth clenching in frustration. The MT he’d dispatched first leered up at him, red eyes glowing through the fractured face plate. Streams of red energy burst from its joints as it attempted to crawl up Noctis’s body. He kicked at it, received a cut on his bare foot for his trouble.

The MT secured its arms around his upper body, trapping one of his arms beneath him. Noctis cried out, clawing at the hardwood floor with his left hand as he tried to shake the thing off him. Each move it made was accompanied by the halting sound of machinery, the stench of old blood. Rough metal fingers grabbed at the ends of his hair, forcing his head back at a sharp angle. The muscles in his neck and shoulders strained against the pressure. Noctis choked on a sharp gasp of pain. It felt as if his tendons were about to snap. The MT, now stretched across his back, wrapped its hands around his neck and squeezed. Noctis’s mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp. His vision dimmed. Weakness pervaded his body. He felt himself sinking into the floor.

Rapid footsteps echoed from the stairwell. “Noct!”

Ignis’s voice brought him back from the brink. Noctis struggled to call for him. The sound he made was more grunt than word. 

The door flew open. Ignis filled the doorway, every line of his body alert. His head jerked toward the floor, his jaw set, and he rushed forward. Reflected light highlighted the exterior of his cane as he jammed it into the back of the MT’s head. It groaned, sounding almost human-like. Its hands loosened around Noctis’s throat. Ignis pried them off. Noctis fell to the floor, gasping and coughing, one hand stealing to his throat. 

Ignis knelt beside him. Noctis gripped his forearm, used him as leverage to push himself to his knees. Breathing hard, he laid a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “I’m okay,” he rasped, though it was as far from the truth as he’d get. It’d been years since he engaged in any kind of combat. His body ached. “The hell are MTs doing here? Thought they stopped working after I disappeared.”

“Apparently not, it would seem,” Ignis said, his tone sharp. Worry underlined it as well, evident in the way he drew Noctis closer. “What concerns me is who sent them, and why.” He paused, head tilted downward. He inspected Noctis’s left arm. “That cut needs to be tended to.” He felt Noctis’s cheek, then his brow, with the back of his hand. His hand drifted to the rest of Noctis’s face. The dark glasses did nothing to hide his distress. “You’re warm. Is it the Starscourge?” 

“Maybe. Not much we can do about it now,” he said, wincing as he gathered his feet under him. The injury on his right foot stung. He shifted his weight to favor the left. Ignis held him steady. Noctis took his time standing, for his legs trembled so damn much. Sensing this, Ignis led him to the bed, encouraged him to sit. Noctis sank onto it with a sigh. He watched Ignis duck into the bathroom, emerge with towels, antiseptic, and bandages.

Ignis went to work on cleaning and binding his wound. He moved with the same grace employed whenever he prepared food. Yet beneath the elegant movements was true worry, demonstrated when Ignis closed his hands over Noctis’s. 

“How did you know they were here?” he asked.

Noctis’s question pulled Ignis from his inner contemplation. “I overheard a vendor talking to a hunter about a strange sighting near our home. I heard the commotion before I came inside.” His voice lowered in pitch. “I feared I wouldn’t make it in time.”

“You were right on time, actually.” Noctis threaded his fingers with Ignis’s. “Like always.”

Ignis’s smile of gratitude was faint, but brief. “We shouldn’t linger here. I’ll take you to Prompto’s apartment. He’s entrusted me with a spare key. Once you’re settled, he and I will investigate who’s behind this attack.” 

“I’m not gonna sit back and let you handle it,” Noctis said, ignoring the dart of pain from the freshly bandaged wound. “They were trying to kill me.”

“I know. But we can’t afford anyone in Lestallum learning of your condition. You and I both know what will happen.”

This stayed any further protest. He made a small sound of resignation. “Okay. Just don’t keep me in the dark.” 

“Never.” Ignis smiled at him. 

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Noctis didn’t know why. Maybe it had to do with the _way_ Ignis smiled at him in that instance. 

But then the glass doors leading to the balcony broke apart, sending dozens of shattered pieces into the air. 

Ignis, either propelled by the blast or his own strength, threw himself toward Noctis. Noctis caught him against his chest. Felt his heart sink deep into his stomach at seeing the red line arcing across Ignis’s back. When they hit the floor, the impact sent him out of his arms. Noctis didn’t see where he landed. 

Smoke billowed into the room. Blinking through watery eyes, Noctis identified hazy silhouettes emerge from the smoke. He heard Ignis coughing nearby, couldn’t see him. 

Two pairs of armored feet, eerily detached from the rest of their bodies due to the density of the smoke, appeared in Noctis’s line of vision. He felt the urge to cough, resisted. The figures paired off. 

“Shouldn’t have sent the original models in first. Looks like they tried to kill them both.” The voice sounded mechanical, distorted. Like it was disguised.

The sound of a boot striking metal echoed. “They still served a purpose.” A pause. “I found him.”

“Alive?”

“Injured, but yes.”

“Take him.”

The smoke thinned. Noctis watched, helpless, as the figure slung Ignis over its shoulder. Blood from the cut arcing across his back soaked his white shirt. His glasses dropped to the floor, as well as something else. Both were carelessly stepped on. 

Noctis sank his teeth into his hand to keep his scream of rage from escaping. Distracted by what happened to Ignis, he didn’t realize the other figure stood over him until a hand seized him by the shirt collar.

He tried to resist, but the figure lifted him off the floor with ease. Soon Noctis found himself face to face with an MT the likes he’d never seen. Rather than dark gray armor, this one wore blue and ivory. A curious symbol decorated its chest. Not Empire, but something else. Something vaguely familiar.

The MT took hold of his right arm, twisted it so the scarred marks from the Astrals came into relief. A sharp finger dug into his skin, drawing not pain, but something else to the surface. His head shot up. A ragged gasp passed his lips. From far away, he thought he heard Ignis speak his name. 

Ignis. “Let him go.” 

“He is safer with us. You, on the other hand, must be tended to.” The MT lifted a hand. The same symbol on its chest appeared to have been branded onto its palm. “Hear me,” it said, as if invoking a rite. It had a curious effect on Noctis, compelling him to listen. “This mark will guide you to your fate. You have ten days.” 

Any questions Noctis had never made it past his lips. The MT struck him on the temple. He wilted. 

Sometime later, Noctis emerged from the darkness with a strangled cry. His heart throbbed wildly in his chest, seemingly straining at his ribcage. He swept his gaze around the room, shaken by the debris strewn about. Shards of glass winked in the light. Three, twisted heaps of smoking metal clogged the path from bed to bathroom. The sight restored his memory. Ignis!

Noctis gathered his legs under him, wincing as he held his right arm against his body. The skin radiated heat not unlike a sunburn. Careful of the broken glass on the floor, he approached the spot where Ignis’s body had lain. At seeing the ruined glasses, he felt personally affronted. How dare they break his glasses. But when he spotted the small skull charm and chain lying beneath them, a sob caught in his throat. 

His hand shook as he gathered the necklace in his hand. He’d never witnessed Ignis without this necklace. It, like his glasses, was part of what made Ignis, Ignis. Noctis slipped the chain into his pocket, then picked up the glasses. He set them on the nightstand on Ignis’s side of the bed. Foolish of him to do, when the room was in chaos and he had no idea who attacked him, why, or what they planned to do with Ignis. But the act of doing something so mundane sharpened his clarity. 

Turning, he scanned the room with fresh eyes. There had to be something they left behind. Some clue indicating where the hell he was supposed to go. The presence of MTs suggested Gralea, but as far as Noctis knew, the train had long been repurposed as a shelter. Any other roadway was destroyed or unheard of. Right now, they were his best lead.

Noctis went to a knee beside one of them, unable to hide his revulsion at their proximity. The things always unsettled him. More like creepy, mechanical dolls than automatons, especially with their all-too-human faces. Noctis poked at the body, searching for a sign or marker, remembering the times MTs pounced on him when he was in Zegnautus Keep. At least now he didn’t have to endure Ardyn’s play-by-play.

He shook his head. Nothing. He moved on to the next pair, gave up at seeing they were too badly damaged. The sound of shouting voices, no doubt drawn by the attack, urged him to act fast. He couldn’t let the townspeople find him or the MTs. Noctis grabbed the paired MTs. Grunting, he dragged them into the bathroom, heedless of the way the legs caught at the door frame. After placing them into the tub, he ran out to grab the third. As it was closer to the balcony, he glimpsed several hunters gathered below. It wouldn’t be long before they tried to get inside.

Once he deposited the last one, Noctis snapped the shower curtain shut and closed the door. He toppled the laundry basket and a small chest in front of it to dissuade entering. The contents of the drawers spilled out, ranging from spare gloves to books to old videos. Noctis spent a moment absorbing the sad sight of their belongings nestled among their clothes. It, like seeing Ignis’s glasses and necklace, cut into his very heart. He hastily turned away, only to be greeted by Ignis’s daggers. Noctis took both from the wall. 

After grabbing a change of clothes, he headed for the door- and paused long enough to snatch one of Ignis’s jackets from the hook there. He threw it over his shoulders as he crept down the stairs. Shadows passed by the drawn curtains of the windows. A few knocked on the door, calling Ignis’s name. Noctis crouched low to grab his boots. Once he’d shoved his feet inside, he grabbed his phone off the charger. Noctis hurried past the kitchen and pantry toward the back door. As his hand rested on the doorknob, tears welled in his eyes. He clenched his teeth against the sorrow threatening to overcome him.

No. They’d return. Noctis swore on his life.

Jaw firmly set, Noctis pushed the door open and slipped outside.

Thick, humid air stole the breath from his lungs. Sweat beaded his brow. Noctis slipped the daggers through his belt loops, shoved the phone into his pocket, and hurried along, keeping low whenever he passed a doorway or window. Voices of concerned neighbors drifted off the further he went, disappearing altogether once he rounded the corner. He lingered in the alley for a moment, recalling the city’s layout from memory. Of course, it’d been over ten years since he last freely wandered the streets. The influx of refugees had swelled the city population. Was there even a safe way he could get to Prompto’s without being seen?

Noctis frowned, perplexed by the dilemma when scaffolding caught his gaze. His eyes drifted upward. Perfect. 

In years past, Noctis could have easily warped to the upper levels. Cut off from the crystal’s power, he was left to more conventional methods. And so, as quickly and quietly as possible, he ascended the ladders and platforms until he reached the roof. The spot afforded him a nice view of the glowing meteor that powered the city. It also gave him enough light to see his way to Prompto’s building, identified by an old advertisement for Wiz’s Chocobo Farm. 

At first, his trek seemed easy. He sprinted along the rooftops, leaping over debris without missing a beat. But then the heat hit him. The lack of stamina. Noctis’s steps slowed. He stopped to catch his breath, wipe the sweat from his eyes. 

And froze at seeing the state of his right hand.

Perhaps it a was a trick of the light. Shadows had a way of emphasizing things that weren’t there. But no. He inspected his hand, and a cold wave of fear washed over him. The circle of black on his ring finger, leftover from where the Ring of the Lucii burned him, appeared to be spreading. 

The sound of his phone ringing jolted him back to the present. Conscious of anyone hearing it, he answered quickly. “Hello?” 

“Dude! Been trying to reach you for like an hour.” Prompto’s relieved voice was like a balm to Noctis’s frayed nerves. “I’m almost at Lestallum. Hope Iggy’s got something good cause I am _starving._ ”

Thoughts of Ignis making food for them caught at his heart. He put the pain from him. “Don’t come to the house.” 

“What? Why? Noct? You all right?”

“I can’t talk now. I’ll meet you at your place.”

“Uh, sure, oh-okay. Iggy give you my spare key?”

“Didn’t get a chance to tell me where it was.” Another memory of Ignis he purposely set aside. Act now, sorrow later. “You have another one hidden somewhere?”

“Not anymore. Kept losing it.” He gave a small, nervous laugh. “Figures, right?”

Noctis sighed. “Might have to break a window.”

Prompto groaned loudly. “Oh, man. Don’t do that. We just got them replaced.”

“We?” Noctis repeated, curious.

He caught a bit of awkward laughter before the unreliable cell service saved Prompto from having to explain. Noctis didn’t think much of it as he pocketed the phone. It was enough he’d see his friend soon. Get a chance to wrap his head around what was happening.

Having recovered some of his stamina, Noctis pressed on. One more narrow jump, and he stood atop Prompto’s building. The larger-than-life chocobo on the billboard was almost directly above what looked like a boxed apartment, complete with windows. It was the strangest home he’d ever seen. Probably one of those solution homes Lestallum needed when space started getting tight. Noctis tested the door, found it locked. Sighing, for he didn’t want to break a window anyway, he leaned against the wall to wait. He checked the time on his phone once, twice. Tried not to think about what those MTs were doing to Ignis.

Ignis. 

Goddammit.

Noctis laid a hand over his eyes. Felt the tears forming. Shuddered as he fought not to give in to panic. His right arm twitched. What did the MTs want with Ignis? Anger bubbled to the surface, eclipsing his sorrow. He looked down at the scarred Astral marks. The raised skin around the tear-shaped indent the MT had given him. Recalled its words. How could he find his ‘fate’ if he didn’t know where to look? 

The gradual turn of the lock at Noctis’s back startled him. His initial belief Prompto had arrived to let him in changed to suspicion. Whoever opened the door now did so with a slow hand. As if they weren’t expecting company. 

Noctis gripped Ignis’s daggers. Muscle memory had him instinctively set them.

The lock clicked. Noctis watched the knob turn, the door open. He tensed. At the flash of a blade, he acted.

Steel rang against steel, echoing into the distance.

Noctis flinched against the strength behind the swing. He only knew one man with that kind of power. 

Stricken speechless, Noctis stared up at Gladiolus. He looked much the same he did last time he saw him: features blank, eyes impassive, dressed in as little as possible. Yet older somehow.

At realizing he hadn’t lowered his weapons, Noctis did so. He didn’t want a repeat of Hammerhead. Not when he was honestly glad to see the big guy.

Gladio maintained a stoic silence. Stretched it out, maybe. Then he shouldered his weapon. Gave him a long once-over. Rubbed his jaw in a contemplative manner. 

“So,” he said at last. “It’s you.” 

Too much had happened today. Too many emotions churned inside Noctis, leaving him unable to reply. 

A door opened behind Gladio, quickly shut. Seconds later, Prompto appeared in the doorway, looking as if he’d sprinted all the way from the city limit. He hung off Gladio’s arm, wheezing and panting, while Gladio appeared unaffected or accustomed to the contact. Once Prompto’s panting subsided, he rose to his full height and snatched Noctis’s hand.

“I saw a bunch of hunters checking out your house. What’s going on?” he asked worriedly. “Where’s Iggy?”

Noctis swallowed to ease the dryness in his throat. But it was Gladio who spoke.

“Best not to talk about it here. Let’s go inside.” With that, he turned and ducked into the house.

Noctis sent Prompto a questioning look. His friend offered a helpless smile and a shrug that pretty much said it all. 

Noctis slid Ignis’s daggers into his beltloops and followed Prompto inside. 

Unlike his home with Ignis, the layout of Prompto’s place was reminiscent of one of the nicer hotel rooms they’d stayed in. A square of carpet, flooring, or tile marked each individual living space, with only the bathroom sectioned off by a door. Prompto danced across the carpet toward the beaten couch dominating the center space. Gladio stood in front of the open fridge, responded to Prompto’s beverage request with a wave of his hand. 

Noctis’s gaze drifted to the king-sized bed to the left of the room, blankets messy, pillows askew. Noctis thought about how orderly Ignis kept their bed, sometimes going so far as to straighten the sheets after they had sex. Noctis liked to pretend to be fast asleep so Ignis couldn’t rearrange them as he liked. This typically led to yet another lovemaking session with Noctis victoriously wrapping Ignis up from behind. 

_“You do this on purpose,” Ignis had said that night, a note of weary sarcasm in his tone._

_“I do,” Noctis had shamelessly replied. “Now you’re too tired to make the bed.”_

Gladio’s sudden approach shook Noctis back to the present. He handed over a long-necked brown bottle. “Here,” he said, gruffly but not in an unfriendly manner. “You’re gonna need it.”

Noctis accepted the bottle with a numb hand. Nodded his thanks. Gladio observed him for another moment, seemed to come to some internal conclusion, and sighed. He signaled Noctis to follow him as he headed for the couch.

Prompto took the can Gladio handed off. Noctis sank onto the far edge of the couch, as aware of the closeness his friends shared as he was of Ignis’s absence. Unconsciously, he fingered the sleeve of the coat still draped over his shoulders. 

Prompto anxiously leaned forward. “What happened to you?”

Noctis twisted the cap off the beer, but he didn’t drink. He just stared at the beads of moisture running down the bottle as he described the attack. Prompto made little sounds of distress. Gladio remained silent. 

“They were MTs,” Noctis finished. “Not like any of the ones we ever saw.”

“Why’d they take Ignis?” Prompto asked. 

Noctis ran a hand through his hair. “Said he’d be safer with them. Don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean,” he said, seeing the question in his friend’s eyes. “They had a message for me, too. I had ten days to go wherever this mark led.” He flashed his right arm. 

Prompto, though having seen the extent of his infection before, nonetheless responded with a strangled noise. He grabbed his hand and held it. 

Gladio’s expression lost its stoicism. True pain surfaced in his eyes, not unlike the night in Hammerhead. Then he averted his face. “Damn. Should have known they’d find you. They find everyone.”

“Who found me?” Noctis demanded. “Don’t jerk me around like this, Gladio. They’ve got Ignis. I have to go after him.”

The other man sighed heavily. Prompto, privy to some knowledge Noctis was not, touched Gladio’s arm. “Tell him.” 

Gladio laid a hand on Prompto’s knee. It was as tender a gesture Noctis had ever seen from him. He and Prompto exchanged small smiles before Gladio addressed Noctis. 

“Those MTs you saw? They’re the muscle for the Herald of the Dawn.”

“Herald of the Dawn?” Noctis frowned. At hearing Prompto make a small sound, he glanced at his friend. “You know about them?”

“They’re the ones I wanted to tell you about,” he said with a nod.

Noctis stared in disbelief. “Did you know they’d come after me? After Ignis?” Worry for Ignis sharpened his words.

“No, no!” Prompto was quick to reassure him. “Well, not really. Never heard of them coming into the city before. They usually stick to the camps.” 

“So why did they show up at my house?” 

“Because they were looking for you,” Gladio said. “The Herald goes after the afflicted. I don’t know how they find them, they just do. Offers them solace. Humane deaths.” His gaze drifted to Noctis’s right arm. Specifically, his hand. Pain flashed in his eyes. “That mark they gave you? It’s for the camp south of Oathe Haven. If you have ten days, then you’d better get moving. Might be your last shot at finding out what happened to Iggy.”

Something about the way he said that, as if it came from a place of knowledge, chilled Noctis to the core. “Gladio- no—”

Gladio leaned forward in his seat. He downed the rest of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The bottle shook as his hand did. He looked over at Noctis with lifeless eyes.

“Iris went there a week ago. She’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just gonna get sadder, everyone. Buckle up.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his own infection progresses, Noctis learns of Iris's demise and that someone tossed his house in search of something.

**Chapter Three**

Noctis stood on the rooftop, arms draped over the ledge, shoulders slumped, as he stared down at the street. Lestallum echoed of life, contrasting the overwhelming emptiness within him. Was it only a few hours ago he and Ignis shared breakfast? Kissed before he headed to the market? He touched his mouth, recalled the warmth of Ignis’s lips on his, the gentle feel of his fingers on his shoulder. Recalled, too, the tender, devoted smile, the rush of emotion it always elicited.

And then the pleasant routine of his world shattered. 

Ignis, taken by the Herald of the Dawn. 

Gladio, living in Lestallum for the past year, practically right under their noses.

Iris, dead of Starscourge. 

His hands clenched. So much had happened in such a short time. He felt adrift, filled with rage, sorrow, and regret, but with no way to relieve any of them. His eyes burned, yet no tears fell. His throat was constricted to such an effect, he had trouble drawing breath. The sobs remained trapped. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry so badly. Instead, he was caught between feeling too much and too little. Only the heat emanating from his right arm remained unaffected. Or, if he was being honest, seemed empowered by his current mood. He hadn’t checked on his hand in the past few minutes, but he knew the black mark around his finger had spread. That the texture of his scars changed. That something inside _him_ changed.

Noctis grasped the bottle on the ledge. Two others sat beside it, tops missing, contents empty. Prompto had given him free reign of the fridge before he went to check on Noctis’s house, though it was clear he didn’t want to leave him alone. Gladio already disappeared after dropping that bomb. The look he’d given him on his way out drove him to partake in Prompto’s generosity. He wasn’t particularly fond of beer- Ignis had turned him onto wine- but it was liquid and cold and eased some of the strain on his throat. Made the memory of Gladio’s lifeless eyes a little more tolerable. 

As Noctis continued sipping at the bottle, his thoughts drifted to the first time he met Iris. How his decision to take responsibility for her disappearing from the Citadel became the building block of their friendship. The way her eyes glowed when he presented her with the flowers Gladio asked him to pick for her. As Gladio was privy to the crush his sister nursed over Noctis, he instigated all the gentle teasing throughout Noctis’s childhood. Even Ignis didn’t spare him. 

Then, on the night before they went to Insomnia, Gladio talked about Iris’s incredible skills as a daemon hunter. _A true Amicitia,_ he’d said, brotherly pride shining in his eyes.

Noctis finished the bottle, let it drop beside the other empty ones. His gaze was drawn to the seams of light reflected on its exterior. He hadn’t seen Iris since he went to Altissia. Prompto kept him updated on Iris’s life, even extended an invite to the wedding on their behalf. She’d been unable to attend, so she sent Mr. Moogle in her stead. Noctis had laughed when Prompto showed up with it, for Iris sewed a black tie to its chest and attached a letter to its hand. Noctis read the letter aloud for Ignis: 

_Mr. Moogle and I wish the best for both of you. Just remember: I’m not going to be around to patch him up, so go easy on him, okay? Love, Iris_

They’d chuckled then, amused by the thought of Noctis using the doll to ‘distract’ Ignis in the event of a fight. Neither knew it’d be the last time they heard from her.

Oh, gods. 

Iris, dead. 

Ignis, missing.

Noctis swept the bottles from the ledge with an angry cry. They spiraled toward the ground, catching the light on the way down. A sob loosened itself from his throat as he sank to his knees. But the tempest of emotion didn’t break, for pain exploded from his arm. Thousands of needles seemed to pierce him in the same instance, leaving echoes of fire all along his skin. Grunting, Noctis inspected his arm. 

And paled.

The scars darkened to deep red. Black marked all his fingers, as if he were wearing a glove. And, unless his eyes deceived him, he swore his nails lengthened. 

He crushed his arm to his chest. Another jolt of pain shook him. The world turned sideways, then went black. 

*** 

A rough hand shook him. Noctis shot into an upright position, fist swinging wildly. His knuckles contacted something soft yet resistant. Strong fingers coiled around his wrist, keeping him steady. A hand, equally as strong but also gentle, encouraged him to lie back.

“Take it easy,” a gruff voice said, as if from far away.

Noctis’s eyes drifted open. A face swam into view, thick brows, dark hair, scars- Gladio. At recognizing him, the rest of the room came into focus. Noctis lay on his back on the couch, a pillow secured behind his head, a blanket drawn up to his chest. The lights seemed too bright, forcing him to turn his head. Gladio didn’t miss this and signaled to an unseen person. The lights dimmed.

Noctis placed his hand over his eyes. His temples throbbed in response to a splitting headache. His face felt flushed. A cold wave of fear spread through him: no. Not now. Want for Ignis’s presence overwhelmed him. His right arm twitched, but from want to hold Ignis or something else, he didn’t speculate.

“Prompto, hurry up with the water,” Gladio demanded.

Noctis heard his friend’s answer, followed by the sound of running tap. A moment later, Gladio pressed the rim of a cup to his lips. Noctis, suddenly aware of intense thirst, sucked it down in large gulps. He immediately coughed some of it up. 

Damn. Damn, damn, _damn._

Gladio sighed heavily. “Come on, champ. You know the drill. Slow drinks.” He spoke gently. Noctis reached for the cup, held it steady as he sipped. Gladio’s low rumble of, “That’s it, you got it,” reminded him of his father. When he finished, he leaned back against the pillows. Gladio set the cup aside. Prompto stood at his shoulder, blue eyes shining with worry.

“You okay, buddy?” he ventured uncertainly.

Noctis grimaced. “Been better,” he rasped. He spied a bag sitting on the floor, as if it’d been dropped in a hurry. Its top stood open, exposing a few items Noctis recognized from the house. He pushed himself to his elbows. “Did you see anyone there? Did they find the MTs?”

Gladio stilled Prompto’s response with a raised hand. “Go get him something to eat, Prom. I don’t care what it is, because he’s going to eat it whether he likes it or not.” He said this with a pointed look Noctis’s way. “We’ll talk about it when you get back.”

The stern tone of voice, reminiscent of days he drove Noctis to excel during training, had the same effect on Prompto. He murmured a response and headed for the door. Once there, Prompto cast a quick look back at them, bit his lower lip, then ducked out. The door clicked behind him. 

“Noct.” Gladio’s voice drew his attention. “Show me your arm.”

Carefully, Noctis stretched it out, wincing when Gladio inspected the sensitive skin. He watched his friend, keenly aware of the pain in his eyes. Noctis knew, without asking, that Gladio had done this for Iris. 

Gently, Gladio laid Noctis’s arm alongside his body. He shook his head. “What’d Iggy do for this?” He indicated the roughened skin, which now resembled freshly burned wood. It made for an uncomfortable comparison. 

“He…he’d wrap it in cold towels.” Noctis barely recognized his voice. Recalling those difficult days still had the power to undo him. “Used to soak them in some herbs or something.”

A wisp of a smile touched Gladio’s lips. “Course he would. Always thought he had a little alchemist in him. Did he say what they were?”

“If he did, I don’t remember. I was kinda out of it.” Noctis tacked on this last at a weak attempt at humor, simply because he felt guilty for forcing Gladio to relive the times he helped Iris. Gladio didn’t seem to notice. Then again, he hadn’t the same kind of rapport with him as he did Ignis. Sometimes all Noctis had to do was sigh a certain way, and Ignis accurately identified the source of his trouble.

“Well, we’ll have to make do with potions. Got a few from Kimya last time I saw her.” As he spoke, he reached for an opaque bottle on the table. He unscrewed the lid, took up a square cloth, and poured some liquid onto it. A pungent odor filled the air, making Noctis grimace.

“I know.” Gladio gave a half smile. “It stinks. But it should help.” 

“Hope so,” Noctis said, though with little conviction. He was remembering all the different types of potions Ignis tried. Despite this, the overall burning sensation ebbed as Gladio gently dabbed at the rougher sections of his arm. His intense focus on the task suggested he was preparing to touch on a difficult subject. 

At length, Noctis sighed. “Just say it already. I know you’re thinking it.” 

For a moment, Gladio appeared puzzled by the comment. Then he frowned. “What do you think I want to say?”

“That I’m getting worse.”

Gladio conceded this with a nod. “Yeah. You are. It’s not gonna get better, either.”

“Thanks for that.” Noctis sighed.

“As for what I’m thinking,” Gladio said, as if Noctis hadn’t spoken. “You’re gonna need some help finding Iggy before things get really bad. Best place to look is the afflicted camp. And,” he said, meeting Noctis’s gaze. “I’m going with you.”

Honest surprise prompted him to say, “I didn’t think you wanted to help me.”

An affronted look crossed his face. “What the hell do you think I’m doing now?” Gladio gestured at the reeking cloth draped over Noctis’s arm. “Or are you talking about Iris?”

Mention of her name brought fresh pain to Noctis’s already ravaged heart. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You left because you didn’t want to see me like this. Then it happened to Iris. Just thought it’d be too much.”

Gladio murmured, ‘Ah.’ It was a very Ignis-like reaction. He soaked another cloth in Kimya’s special potion, spread it along the upper part of Noctis’s arm. He paused to consider his next words. “Back when Ignis told Prom and me about your destiny, I was pissed. How can you look at someone you see all the time, train him, laugh with him, argue with him, knowing one day, you’d watch him walk away and never see him again?”

Noctis, having never heard Gladio’s feelings on his destiny, felt as if his heart sank. “Gladio…”

He responded to his name with a faint smile. It conveyed more gratitude than words ever could. “I don’t know how Ignis dealt with it. Maybe cause he knew there wasn’t anything he could do. Always big on moving forward.” 

“He is.” Noctis refused to speak of Ignis in the past tense, even when referencing past events. “Keeping us focused.” 

Gladio bowed his head. “Someone had to. When things got bad- and believe me, they did- while you were gone, Iggy reminded us all to keep it together. But then Insomnia happened.” He sighed. “Suddenly it wasn’t destiny taking you away. It was something else we couldn’t control. Iggy pulled a 180 on us. I thought he’d lost it. Like he was in denial about what’d happen to you.” His gaze drifted to Noctis’s left hand. Understanding shone in his eyes. “Love makes you do crazy shit. Even Ignis.”

Noctis nodded slowly. Emotion prevented him from speaking.

Gladio’s focus went past Noctis. His lower lip trembled, slightly. “Iris was on a hunt. Me and Prom took some time off to relax, but she kept me up to date. When we lost contact, we went looking for her. The hunters were dead, and Iris—” He broke off to pull in a shuddering breath, pressed the bridge of his nose. Noctis glimpsed tears rolling down his cheeks, felt tears well in his own eyes in response to his friend’s suffering. 

Gladio resumed in a choked voice. “She’d killed the daemons. Tried to pass off her injury as nothing. Course, it all changed when we got to town. Hunter saw the Starscourge on her leg. Nearly took his head off when he went after her. Prompto got us out of there. We shacked up in an abandoned camper while he looked for supplies.” His hands clenched into fists. His eyes glistened, and he blinked back tears. 

“She was turning fast. She begged me to end it. I couldn’t. Few days later, she disappeared. Left me this.” He withdrew a folded note from his pocket. The paper was worn at the edges, smudged with dirt and what looked to be blood. “Told me the Herald brought her to the camp by Oathe Haven. By the time I got there, it was too late. Herald gave her peace. They gave me a brochure. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

Gladio drifted into silence, clearly too distraught to continue. Noctis knew he should say something, couldn’t. Iris’s abrupt end saddened as much as it frightened him. And, as he took in Gladio’s distress, he envisioned Ignis’s anguish at the final moment. Tears filled his eyes. _Ignis…_

It took Gladio some time to return to himself. He wiped at his eyes and leveled Noctis with a steady look. “We both know what’s gonna happen to you, Noct. I hate it, Prom hates it, and I know damn well Iggy hates it. It’s why we’re going to find him. You’ll get your goodbyes.”

The full weight of Gladio’s ordeal, combined with his intention to see Noctis and Ignis together one last time, proved to be his undoing. Noctis’s lower lip trembled. Tears poured down his cheeks. Tears of sorrow, regret, gratitude. Gladio, sensing what was to come, leaned over to draw Noctis to him. The knot in his throat untangled, finally allowing the sobs to break free. Gladio said nothing, just let Noctis cry himself breathless. 

When the tears ebbed, Gladio helped ease him back onto the couch. Noctis lay against the pillow, emotionally drained. Still, he managed a wan smile for his friend. “You’re almost as good as Ignis at this,” he commented, accepting the cloth Gladio handed so he could tend to his nose. “When did that happen?”

Gladio snorted. “Always was this good at it. You never saw it because it wasn’t my job. Also, I meant it about you eating everything Prom brings. No picky princes, or kings, on my watch. Got it?” 

Noctis’s smile widened. “Got it. Thanks, Gladio.”

He smiled, the first real smile they’d exchanged in what felt like centuries. When Gladio extended his hand, Noctis gripped it. 

Prompto appeared in the doorway then, two plastic bags dangling from his wrists, a six-pack stuffed under his arm. As Gladio rose to his feet in response to Prompto’s dramatic cry for help, Noctis observed them with a faint smile. He’d always had an inkling something lay beneath the surface. If anyone could support Gladio during such a time, it was Prompto. It was just his nature. 

Prompto and Gladio arranged themselves on the floor in front of the couch so Noctis could comfortably eat without having to get up. Sitting as they were, chatting about this and that over food (Noctis couldn’t help but complain about the vegetables, if only to get Gladio to scowl at him), reminded Noctis of the old days. His one regret was Ignis’s absence. As Gladio and Prompto laughed about something or other outside Noctis’s experience, he dropped his gaze to his left hand. The gold band retained its shine even in the dim light. He wished he knew what the Herald wanted with Ignis. Whatever it was, they were welcome to it, so long as he’d have Ignis back. The ache of missing him persisted, leaving him with a constant chill he couldn’t abate.

Once they’d finished, Gladio ducked into the bathroom. Noctis turned to Prompto. “What did you see when you went to my house?” 

Prompto’s smile became strained. It wasn’t a good sign. “Hunters have it blocked off. I snuck in through the back to get your stuff.” He indicated the bag.

Noctis’s face fell. Standard protocol if anyone was found harboring someone with Starscourge. The possibility of their not having a home to return to troubled him. “Damn,” he muttered. “What about the MTs? Did they find them?”

Prompto shrugged. “I don’t know. Place was a mess when I went in.”

“Not surprised,” Noctis said. “Our bedroom is probably the worst. It’s where they attacked us.”

At this, Prompto rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh. It wasn’t just the bedroom, Noct.”

Noctis sat up straight. “What do you mean?”

Prompto pulled his camera from his pocket. “Took a few pics. Thought you’d want to see for yourself. Might need the photos for insurance or something. Hey, I know what that is,” he defended when Noctis’s brows went up. “I got a lot of stuff here. Who do you think remembered to get it when we moved?” He said this loud enough for Gladio to hear through the bathroom door. His colorful response put a mischievous gleam in Prompto’s eye. Noctis cracked a wry smile as he accepted the camera. It quickly vanished when he scrolled through the photos.

Books, frames, and other items littered the floor in the living room. Couch cushions had been thrown to all corners. Drawers stood open. Cabinets in the kitchen all bore evidence of rummaging. Even the pantry hadn’t been spared. More than a few jars had been shoved aside, the pickle jar among the ones sent to the floor. The bedroom was also tossed, bed stripped of its sheets, mattress slashed, pillows scattered. The careless disregard for their possessions inflamed Noctis’s anger.

“Hunters didn’t do this,” he said, handing the camera back before he broke it from sheer rage. “Had to be the MTs.”

Prompto’s expression indicated he’d come to the same conclusion. He tucked the camera back into his pocket, sighed. “What the hell were they looking for anyway?”

Noctis shook his head. “No idea. Looks like I’ll have to ask them when I go to their camp.” 

Gladio, having emerged from the bathroom, heard the tail end of Noctis’s statement and added, “You mean us. No way in hell I’m letting you go there alone. Not in your condition.”

Noctis smiled his thanks, as did Prompto. Gladio tapped Prompto on the shoulder. “Should let him sleep, Prom. I’m gonna head out to get some supplies. You get me some fuel.”

“You betcha.” Prompto smiled up at him, pleased to be of service.

“Fuel for what?” Noctis asked curiously. 

Prompto flashed a grin. “You’ll see tomorrow. Get some rest, dude. We’ll be back soon.” With that, he sprang to his feet and headed for the door. Gladio nodded to Noctis, then followed Prompto. 

Once alone, Noctis leaned back on the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling for several moments, his thoughts scattered. Why would the MTs tear his house apart? What were they looking for? Eventually, the day’s events caught up to him. He was asleep before he knew it.

***

_The hall was long, illuminated by malfunctioning lights. Noctis staggered toward the doorway at the far end. Shadows took on strange shapes in the distance. The hall stank of old machinery and blood. Large stains, fresh and old, coated the floor. Noctis stepped across them on shaky legs, bootheels dragging thin streaks in his wake._

_The doors split apart. Noctis squinted into the light. Glimpsed a figure emerge. His breath caught in his throat. Shock turned into panic as, very slowly, the figure collapsed to the floor. Blood matted his mussed, dark hair, created a streak of bright red against his pale cheek. Light picked out scar tissue surrounding his eye. A bloodied dagger- **his** dagger- was embedded in between his shoulder blades._

_And there, manifesting in Noctis’s hand, was its twin. Fresh blood coated the blade. He dropped the dagger as if it burned, only to realize his hands were also covered in blood. Heart racing, he watched as the blood from his hands and the edge of the dagger coalesced into a pool at his feet. His reflection showed him with blood-stained cheeks, the slick, black skin dominating half his face, and glowing, unearthly eyes._

_**“He is safer with us.”** The MT’s words came back, mocking, prophetic._

_Noctis dropped to his knees and screamed Ignis’s name._

***

The echo of his own scream pulled him from the nightmare. Noctis panted heavily, trying to banish the terrible visions from his mind but unable to. Was the dream just a manifestation of his fear, or a warning?

Alone, trembling, pained in body and mind, he covered his face and wept. The burning sensation in his arm expanded to his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am giving myself so many sads with this. I am at the mercy of this fic.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he and Gladio make ready to leave, Noctis realizes time is running out for him.

**Chapter Four**

Though worn out from his emotional breakdown, Noctis had difficulty sleeping. He pretended for Gladio and Prompto’s benefit when they returned, but he just lay on his side, gaze fixed on the wall.

When his friends eventually settled for the night, Noctis waited until both were softly snoring before sitting up on the couch. He knew he had to sleep. Past experiences with his infection attuned him to the expectation of weakened stamina and restless nights. This was different. The haunting images of his dream brought all his deep-seeded fears to the fore. He stared at his hands, turned them palm-side up. The discoloration on his right hand contrasted to his left. The burning sensation on his shoulder had intensified over the past few hours. 

A muscle worked in his cheek. 

_“If you have ten days, then you better get moving. Might be your last shot at finding out what happened to Iggy.”_

_“You’ll get your goodbyes.”_

Noctis’s fists clenched. As someone who had already come to terms with his demise, he knew a time limit when he heard it. The next- last?- time he’d see Ignis might very well be a prelude to the end. Ideally, he would have preferred it to happen in the privacy of their home. Him in their bed, Ignis beside him, holding his hand, perhaps, or stroking his face, his hair. Saying something uniquely Ignis. Smile at him. 

A tightness formed in his chest. Noctis pressed his knuckles to his lips to keep the sob from breaking free. His skin warmed, then cooled, at each successive intake of breath. His body shook as he struggled against his emotions, but, in the end, he forced himself to calm down. The time for wistful thoughts had passed. The only thing that mattered was moving forward. Noctis turned his gaze to the window, his jaw set. He’d find Ignis. No matter what.

An alarm went off shortly after 7AM. Noctis put his phone away as the bed behind him creaked in response to the occupants waking up. At the sound of low whispering, (coupled with a sleepy giggle), Noctis realized it was the first morning he didn’t wake up to Ignis beside him. He vowed to make it the _only_ morning.

Gladio rounded the corner of the couch, yawning and scratching at the back of his head. At seeing Noctis already awake, his expression turned sympathetic. “Rough night?”

“You could say that.” Noctis decided against sharing the rapid progression of the Starscourge. It’d come out in the open later. He stood, met his friend’s gaze. “I need you to tell me everything you know about the Herald.”

The steady tone put surprise, and admiration, into Gladio’s eyes. “I will,” he promised with a nod. “But not until after breakfast. Hey, Prompto,” he said, and the lump on the far side of the bed twitched. “Get your ass out of bed. Time to put Iggy’s recipes to the test.” 

At this, Noctis sent Prompto an interested look. “He knows how to cook?” he asked, watching his friend free himself from twisted sheets. He stretched his arms over his head, looking fairly pleased with himself, before switching the light on. 

“Sure. Iggy showed him a few things,” Gladio said, drawing Noctis’s attention. “Also figured you might like to eat something he’d normally make for you. Give you some incentive today.” The loud thud, followed by Prompto’s surprised grunt, made Gladio sigh. “If he doesn’t break a few bones getting to the kitchen.” 

Prompto, hearing Gladio’s comment, made a face. His disheveled blond hair made him look all the sillier. Or endearing, given the way Gladio’s eyes softened as he watched him.

Noctis smiled to cover how much he missed Ignis. “I’ll take all the incentive I can get.” He gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

The fond smile Gladio sent Prompto faded, and he turned a solemn gaze Noctis’s way. “Save the thanks for after we find him. Go get cleaned up. Prom’ll have breakfast ready soon.”

“Don’t forget the bag I took from your place,” Prompto called from the kitchen. “Figured you’d want some fresh clothes.”

Noctis gathered the bag in hand, sent a wry smile his friend’s way. “You’re being helpful for a change?”

There was a brief pause. Then: “What do you mean ‘for a change’?” 

The answer, delivered in near perfect mimicry of the outraged tone used in their youth, brought forth laughter. Noctis exchanged amused looks with Gladio, took up his bag, and headed for the bathroom. 

After his shower, Noctis dropped to his haunches and rifled through the bag in search of clean underwear. His hand struck a small box tucked into the bottom. Curious, he pulled it free. It resembled a jewelry case like the ones Prompto had brought their rings in. Glancing at his ring, Noctis determined he wanted to keep it safe rather than risk losing it in battle. When he cracked the box open, however, he fell back onto the bathroom floor, careless of his elbow striking the wall.

For nestled upon the grooved velvet was the Ring of the Lucii. 

His heart hammered in his chest. He knew Ignis had kept it. Never asked where, for he’d already come to terms with the Astrals’ decision to mark him as unworthy. Prompto most likely had no idea it was even in the case when he grabbed it. But the sight of the item representing his failure as the Chosen King distressed him all the same. He snapped the box shut and shoved it back into the bag with a shaking hand. Resumed looking for clean underwear. 

New awareness stilled his movements. Had the MTs tossed his home in search of it? If so, why? It was useless to those outside of his bloodline and the unworthy, such as Ravus.

And him.

“Noct?” Gladio’s voice echoed from the other side of the door. “Heard something fall. You okay?”

Noctis stood. “Yeah,” he said, forcing an embarrassed laugh. “Just hit my arm on the wall.” 

“I do that all the time,” Gladio grumbled with a sigh. “People who designed this place didn’t think about guys my size.”

Noctis swept his gaze around the room, smiled at the thought of Gladio having to practically duck the whole time he was in here. “I can see that. I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Gladio acknowledged him and walked away. Noctis sank onto the toilet seat, too weak-kneed to stand. After a time, he pulled out socks, underwear, pants, a shirt, and gloves. All the while, he stared at the bag, wondering if he should leave the box or hide it. Instinct suggested he keep it out of sight. But should the MTs offer Ignis’s freedom in exchange…

That settled it. 

Noctis unearthed the ring. Its potent energy reached him even through the box. He opened it again, took a deep breath. Then, slowly, he removed his wedding ring. It came away with reluctance, mirroring what Noctis felt in his heart. He exchanged it with the Ring of the Lucii. The metal heated at his touch. Gasping, for he hadn’t expected it to react like this, he grabbed one of the small washcloths hanging beside the mirror. He dropped the ring into the cloth, wrapped it up as tightly as possible, and shoved it into his pocket. He spent a moment gazing at the gold ring in the box, then softly closed the lid. It felt like he closed the door on this part of his life. He put the thought from his mind as he tucked it into the bag. 

Once Noctis finished dressing, he collected his dirty clothes, the bag, and exited the bathroom.

Gladio, seated at the table in the kitchen, looked up expectantly as Noctis appeared. “Food’s about ready,” he said, waving him over.

Noctis dropped his things onto the couch before joining Gladio. As he slid into a seat, his gaze drifted to the brochure on the center of the table. His brows lowered. “That from the Herald?”  


Gladio slid it to him. “Yep. Was reading it over while you showered. Not much in it that I didn’t already tell you.”

Noctis picked it up and scanned the cover. The symbol he’d seen on the MT’s hand was present. Only now did he realize it looked like a stylized sun with a rearing unicorn in the center. The unicorn symbol tickled his memory. However, his fixation on the content distracted him: 

**We of the Herald are dedicated to keeping Starscourge victims from being dehumanized by their condition. We provide safety, shelter, and food. Don’t risk your loved ones being hunted down like animals. Contact your local representative for more information.**

Noctis flipped it over, but all the back revealed was the sun and unicorn emblem. He scowled as he set it aside. “Any idea where the local representative is?”

Gladio rubbed his chin. “Way I hear it, they stick to the way stations. Fortunately, we know where we’re going. Don’t need to track one down for info.”

“Yeah,” Noctis replied. Eagerness to move out quickened his pulse. “How long will it take us to get there?” 

“Depends on you. You get tired, we’ll stop. If I think you’re tired, we’ll stop. I don’t care if it’s ten miles down the road or ten feet. And don’t think you can fool me, either. I know how fast this shit spreads.” 

Noctis shook his head. “I appreciate it, Gladio, but I’ll be fine. I have to be. I need to find him.” His voice trembled a bit.

Gladio studied him for another moment, then bowed his head. “Right. It’s your call. How’s your fighting technique?”

Noctis spread his hands in a helpless gesture. He was glad of the gloves, for it hid the extent of his infection. “Not that great. I’ve been exercising when I can, but…”

“It’s not the same. All right, then,” Gladio said with a firm nod. “We’ll head out as far as we can today. Tonight, I’ll train you. So eat up. You’re going to need it.”

Familiar with the kind of regiment Gladio employed, Noctis told himself to eat every bite.

Prompto appeared with coffee, then hurried back to the kitchen. He looked especially pleased as he set the bowls down. Noctis identified the meal as the same one Ignis made the other morning, though Prompto was a little more generous with the meat. He hid his pain behind a smile as he picked up his spoon. The three settled in to eat in amiable silence.

About halfway through, Noctis learned Prompto wasn’t coming with them. “Figured I’d keep an eye on your house,” he said when Noctis asked why. “You’ll need a place to come back to. I’ll even clean it up.” 

Noctis smiled his appreciation, though a part of him doubted he’d be the one returning. “That means a lot to me. I know Ignis feels the same.”

Prompto smiled, his cheeks flushing. “Specs helped us out so much back in the day. I just hate thinking of him alone out there, you know?”

“Aw, you know Iggy. I’m sure he’s fine,” Gladio said, though with some forced positivity Noctis didn’t miss. He could tell the big guy was just trying to soothe Prompto- and himself, to some degree- so he just nodded. Gladio was also telling the truth. Despite attacking their home, the MTs didn’t appear interested in hurting Ignis.

Gladio finished his meal, stood, and slapped his hands on the table. “All right. Time to go,” he announced. “Noct, get your things together. Prom and I will meet you outside.”

Once the two had gone, Noctis fetched his bag. He slipped Ignis’s daggers through his belt loops, drew on his jacket- about a size too big, but he didn’t care, it smelled like him- and stepped into his boots. As he started for the door, a framed photo on the wall caught his eye. It featured the four of them by the lighthouse at Caem. Iris stood between Gladio and Prompto, her smile matched by the four surrounding her. 

Noctis smiled faintly. “See you soon, Iris,” he murmured, and stepped through the door.

The air in the stairwell was heavy with a myriad of scents ranging from food to other, less pleasant ones. As he neared the last step, he experienced another scent, familiar but absent from his life since he woke up on Angel Island. Emerging from the hall into the alley between the buildings, Noctis’s eyes widened as he beheld a motorcycle. 

Gladio packed the side compartments with camping materials and other provisions. Prompto stood alongside it, upending a gas tank into the fuel compartment. A few drops escaped the nozzle, staining the ground and the tops of his boots. The strong scent of gasoline filled the air.

Gladio, catching him staring, flashed a proud grin. “Something, isn’t it?” he said, patting the thick leather seat. “Found it in one of the old Imperial bases a few months back. Sure beats the rickety trucks we use to get around.”

“I bet.” Noctis smiled as he admired the bike. Its chassis gleamed blue-black in the light. Its shine indicated Gladio, or Prompto, gave it as much attention as Cindy did the Regalia back in the day. He experienced a brief pang at the last time he’d seen his father’s car, put the memory from him. “Does it have those special headlights?”

“No,” Prompto said with a sigh. He set the container on the ground and closed the fuel tank. “Only made ‘em for Crown City vehicles. Empire didn’t really need to worry about daemons.” He frowned.

Noctis murmured an agreement. “Guessing you don’t take it out much.”

“Only to local places,” Gladio answered, securing the side compartments. “More way stations around here in case we need to get off the road.”

“And there’s not many down by Oathe Haven,” Noctis said, and Gladio’s shrug confirmed his suspicions. 

“There’s two that we know of.” He pulled the map from his pocket and spread it on the seat. Noctis stepped forward to get a closer look. “Here, and here,” Gladio said, indicating the points with a finger. “We’ll leave it hidden at the last one. Too risky to take all the way there.”

Noctis noted the distance between the last way station and Oathe Haven. He grimaced, he couldn’t help it. “Which means…”

“Which means you’re going to do a lot more walking and camping again.” Gladio’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. They all knew this wasn’t like their other trips. “The way stations have campers. You can take the bed. I don’t mind sleeping on the ground.”

A thought occurred to Noctis, and he swallowed. “What about the other hunters? Don’t they use the way stations, too?” 

Prompto and Gladio exchanged looks. “They do,” Gladio sighed. “I know another way around the first station. It’s too far from the lights for the others to use. Shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Just don’t let them see your arm,” Prompto said, his eyes shining with worry. 

Noctis nodded grimly. Gladio’s brief, pained look reminded Noctis of their experiences with getting Iris to safety. 

At realizing what he’d said, Prompto made a little sound of dismay and averted his gaze. His bottom lip vanished behind his teeth. Gladio touched his shoulder, gently eased him to his chest. Prompto leaned against him, his hands resting around Gladio’s waist. The look in Gladio’s eyes spoke of the strong feeling between them. He leaned in to whisper something to Prompto, who flushed crimson before a nervous smile touched his lips. When Prompto lifted his face to Gladio’s, Noctis turned away to give them some privacy. He stared down the alley, which opened to the street. The change in shifts saw clusters of people passing by. Unconsciously, he touched his right arm, as if they’d suddenly be able to see through his sleeve.

A light poke at his ribs made him jump and whirl around. Prompto flashed an apologetic grin. “Sorry about that. Hey, I want you to take this,” he said, withdrawing his gun from its holster. Like Noctis, his ability to summon weapons was compromised. 

Noctis accepted it, noting the weapon was the same Prompto used while battling in Insomnia. “Are you sure?”

His friend nodded. “I’m not gonna be hunting for a while. This will be like I’m with you. So,” he said, summoning a smile. “Kill a few daemons for me. Talcott’s still got the highest score. I’m _this_ close to beating him.”

Noctis chuckled. “You got it.” He took the holster from Prompto, wrapped it around his thigh, and slid the gun home. Prompto’s eyes gleamed, then he withdrew his camera. Noctis flinched at the flash, but he didn’t begrudge his friend this photo opportunity.

“Great idea, Prom,” Gladio said. He gestured for Noctis to stand beside him in front of the motorcycle. Once Noctis was in place, they struck a pose for Prompto. His smile stretched from ear to ear as he snapped a few shots. The three embraced, Noctis fighting back tears at Prompto’s whispered request they all return safely. The increased burning sensation in his right shoulder continued to stretch the possibility of a such a return.

Prompto stood off to the side while Gladio and Noctis mounted the bike. Noctis accepted the helmet from his friend, slid his arms into the straps of his bag. Gladio secured his helmet, hit the ignition, and revved the engine. The bike roared to life. Noctis looked toward Prompto. The blond flashed him another smile, slightly wavering at the edges, before giving a thumbs up.  
Gladio pushed the kickstand into place with the heel of his boot. Noctis wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist and leaned forward. Gladio turned to Prompto, bowed his head. Prompto responded in kind. Then Gladio sped down the alley, sending debris scattering at their passage. The buildings fell away, leaving the cluttered street exposed, and Gladio banked hard left. 

Noctis, only having glimpsed the street from a distance, was honestly surprised by how crowded it was. The road running past the entrance was clogged with people, dilapidated vehicles converted to rundown living quarters, and a few food stalls. The excess went down into the parking area across the way, stretching as far as the terraces overlooking the canyon. Noctis, recalling the first time they arrived in Lestallum, couldn’t even find the place where Prompto took their group photo. Tents swarmed the area. 

The sight of so many weary faces amidst a sea of rundown shelters shredded his heart. All these people would have been saved, if only he’d succeeded. He had to look away before he succumbed to tears. 

Gladio maneuvered the bike around a cluster of parked vehicles, then he picked up speed. As they left the noisy throng behind, Noctis focused his attention on the tunnel ahead, and the unknown fate that awaited him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, everyone. Things are getting pretty tense for poor Noct.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis meets the founder of the Herald of the Dawn, who offers him an unexpected reward if he surrenders the Ring of the Lucii.

**Chapter Five**

Awareness made a slow return. Yet the moment Ignis came to, he knew he wasn’t home.

After years of living in darkness, Ignis became accustomed to its subtle differences. These variations often determined what room he was in. The kitchen, for example, appeared almost dark brown. Rooms with better lighting, such as the bedroom and living room, altered between shades of black to brown. The markets in Lestallum shifted depending on what direction he faced. 

The place he found himself in now, however, exhibited none of those variations. This was a darkness so complete, so restrictive, he experienced something he hadn’t in years.

Fear. 

The feeling threatened to drag him back to a time when his world wasn’t comprised of blacks and browns. When he didn’t have to rely on memory to know the shape and color of things. The exact shade of Noctis’s eyes.

 _Self-inflicted injury,_ whispered a tiny voice he hadn’t heard in years.

 _A choice I had to make,_ he reminded this nagging voice, and dismissed it. It was neither the place nor time for such things. 

Calling upon meditation techniques employed during his training, Ignis spent some moments steadying himself. Counted his breaths, matching them to each heartbeat. Inhaled, drawing his arms to himself. Exhaled, stretching his arms out. Once he’d settled his mind, Ignis reached out with his other senses. The stale air suggested he was indoors, perhaps a locked room or a transport. 

He turned in place, outstretched fingers seeking the wall. Smooth metal, broken in sections by lines separating the panels. He touched the floor, finding the same. Slowly, he drew one leg under him. A sharp pain across his upper back made him wince. Ignoring it, he crawled along the floor, keeping one hand extended in anticipation of another wall. He’d moved three feet before contacting the other side of the room. Frowning, Ignis glided his hand along the surface. When he touched a hinge, he pushed himself to his feet. Both hands moved across the door now, seeking, seeking. The feel of bars across the upper portion drew him up short.

A cell?

Movement echoed beyond the opening. Ignis dropped back, feeling along the wall to help guide him. He tilted his head toward the sound, his thoughts at work. Heavy footsteps- a person of large size, perhaps. The muffled sound could be due to the thickness of the sole or the wall. The footsteps stopped directly in front of him. Ignis tensed as the person on the other side inserted an access card. He heard the whisper of plastic slipping into a metal slot, the click-click-click of fingers on a keypad. A high-pitched chime sounded, followed by the heavy rush of a metallic door sliding open. At the scent of acrid metal and old blood, Ignis stiffened. 

MTs.

They’d attacked their home. Attempted to hurt Noctis. 

_Noct._

Ignis’s mind immediately shifted gears. Concern for himself was always secondary to the man he’d devoted his life- and his heart- to. Whether he was here or somewhere else, Ignis would find him.

The MT approached. Ignis listened, separating the echo of whirring machinery in its joints from its footsteps. Felt rather than sensed the hand reaching for him. Ignis wasted no time. 

Bringing both arms forward, he caught the MT’s questing hand between his own. Pivoting on his heel, he threw it against the wall with all the strength he could muster. At impact, Ignis closed in, pinning it with his body. He braced his left arm across its shoulders. The MT jerked in place. Ignis anticipated its attempt to reach for him by grabbing its arm with his right hand. So focused on keeping it still, Ignis didn’t react to the sound at his back until it was too late.

A pair of armored hands latched onto his shoulders, dragging him back. Ignis couldn’t muster a counter move, for his assailant forced him to his knees, hard. Pain reverberated through him. Fingers gripped the top of his head, forcing it back. Ignis emitted a small cry, then stiffened at feeling a hand close around his throat.

Lighter footsteps sounded to his right.

“No.” The newcomer spoke in a distorted voice. “He will not resist. Will he?”

Ignis sensed eyes fixed on him. “No,” he replied, knowing submission to be the smarter option. Struggling wouldn’t gain him any of the information he desperately needed. 

The speaker made a satisfied sound. “Bring him.”

The MT pulled Ignis to his feet. He fought the urge to shake its hand off his arm. The absence of his cane forced him to rely on it for guidance. 

The subtle shift in his perception indicated he’d been taken out of the room. He listened for movement separate from their footsteps. The low hum associated with fluctuating light fixtures echoed overhead. Doors opened and closed in the distance. The air tasted of the stench of metal and blood from the MTs. The similarity between this place and the keep in Gralea unsettled him. 

The MT turned a corner, practically dragging Ignis along in its wake. Ignis picked out a new scent in the air. An infirmary? 

A door opened ahead of them. The person approaching him didn’t smell like the MTs. This was a distinctly human scent. 

“Sit him down there,” a man instructed. Older and tired if he was to judge by the voice.

The MT tugged Ignis along. He reached out in anticipation of a chair or table. His fingers contacted the smooth surface of paper. It crinkled beneath him when he sat. Ignis sensed the MT stepping aside to allow the doctor to take its place. 

“Hmm. Facial scars look old. Know anything of this, Acolyte?” There was the snap of rubber gloves. 

Ignis turned his face away the instant he felt a finger brush his brow. Acolyte?

“No.” The MT’s distorted voice hinted at irritation. “Work fast. She wants to see him as soon as possible.”

“Excuse me,” Ignis said at realizing the Acolyte intended to leave. “Who wants to see me?” He blocked the doctor’s attempt to examine his eyes with an impatient hand. “Why am I here?”

“She will reveal all,” the Acolyte said, and walked away. Its footsteps receded into the distance.

Ignis frowned in displeasure, but resigned himself to the doctor’s administrations. Once he’d completed a physical exam, he asked Ignis to remove his shirt. He undid the buttons with a practiced hand. Tried not to think of Noctis doing the same, albeit carelessly, the other morning. Wistful memories served no purpose now. But he couldn’t deny how much he _missed_ Noctis. 

“Got a shallow cut on your back,” the doctor said, interrupting Ignis’s thoughts. “What did it use? Claw? Sword?” He dabbed a cloth soaked in antiseptic around the wound.

Ignis tilted his head toward the doctor. “Pardon?”

“The afflicted.” Another damp cloth touched Ignis’s back. “What did it attack you with?”

“No afflicted did this to me,” Ignis said sharply. “The MTs attacked our home.”

“Unfortunate it had to come to that,” the doctor said, as if such intrusions were normal. “Still, that afflicted you were harboring would have turned on you.” Ignis flinched at feeling a needle pierce his skin. The doctor pulled thread, evidently stitching the cut. “Could be tomorrow. Could be next year. They all do.”

Part of Ignis knew the doctor’s scenario was correct. This was not an encounter he anticipated. Then again, logic and reason held very little sway when it came to Noctis. All such talk did was reinforce Ignis’s desire to return to him, to spend as many mornings as they had left before he had to make a choice guaranteed to break his heart.

Once the doctor finished stitching the wound, he applied gauze. “All right. You’re good to go,” he said, stepping back. Ignis pulled his shirt on, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness of the wound. 

“You’re one of the lucky ones,” the doctor commented. “The Herald of the Dawn saved you from worse than this.”

Ignis paused in buttoning his shirt. He’d heard the name whispered among the populace dozens of times this past year. Rumor said they advocated for Starscourge victims. Provided shelter, food, and a place to die with dignity. Ignis didn’t give it much consideration since no one knew Noctis’s condition. Inwardly, he chided himself for his lack of foresight. Especially since MTs were involved.

“How long has the Herald had access to Magitek technology?”

“I don’t know much about all that,” the doctor said. “Don’t really care, either. My sister was afflicted. They eased her suffering. Far as I’m concerned, they’re the best damn thing to happen to us since that King of Light was a no show.” He snorted. “Some savior.” 

Ignis stiffened. All the sacrifices, the suffering, the _pain_ , Noctis endured, both then and now, met with such casual disdain. Had Ignis less control over his emotions, he would have demonstrated the consequence for such commentary. But Noctis’s privacy was more important than the insult. 

“So why am I here?” he asked, slipping the last button through its loop. “Do they believe I need saving?”

“Don’t you?” The doctor seemed genuinely surprised at Ignis’s comment. “Seen too many of you torn to pieces by loved ones cause you weren’t smarter about things.” 

Ignis looked away. His fingers tightened around the edge of the bed. Again, he couldn’t argue this truth. But the Herald believing it knew better in such a circumstance aggravated him. How many people had their misguided principles affected? 

Approaching footsteps alerted Ignis. He rose to his feet, tense. Hated how his unfamiliarity with the room prevented him from acting on some his natural impulses.

“Is he ready?” the Acolyte asked. 

“Just finished. Shall I make the necessary arrangements?”

Ignis tilted his head toward the doctor. What was he talking about?

“That’s up to her. You,” the Acolyte said, drawing Ignis’s attention. Two, three, steps echoed, and he sensed the MT standing in front of him. Metallic fingers circled his upper arm. Ignis again resisted the want to dislodge them. 

As the MT started walking, he fell into step alongside it. His hand brushed against its body, allowing him to identify a weapon at its waist. A dagger, perhaps, or a sword. He took note of it for future reference. 

“I assume this ‘she’ you’ve been talking about is in command,” he said.

The MT urged him to turn the corner. “You’re correct.”

“Who is she?”

“Someone of great importance to the world.” Something akin to reverence existed in the altered voice. Ignis found it curious. “She will bring us the light.”

Now Ignis was _very_ curious. “How so?”

The MT paused. Whether it was for effect or they had reached their destination, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, for its next words brought him up short.

“Because you’re going to help her.”

It took Ignis a moment to respond to such audacity. “And why would I do that?” 

A pair of heavy doors opened. Ignis turned toward the sound, for beneath the echo of creaking hinges came light footsteps. Heeled shoes, _clack-clack-clack_ , across the floor. No sound of wheezing mechanics or the scent of metal and blood. Human, like the doctor. Yet as this person neared Ignis, a familiar awareness teased his senses. It made his fingertips tingle, not unlike those instances he’d summon his weapons through Noctis’s connection to the crystal. 

How, then, did this person radiate the same feeling?

As if understanding his confusion, the heeled footsteps ceased. “You can leave him with me,” a woman said. She spoke softly, but with easy authority. “Ignis will not commit to any foolish acts.”

Ignis refrained from showing his surprise at her knowledge of his name. Use of it indicated she had access to information he needed.

“You’re certain?” The Acolyte didn’t seem convinced.

“Of course. He is, first and foremost, a man of knowledge. He won’t receive answers unless he cooperates.” 

The accurate way she followed his thought process sent a cold chill down his spine. This was not a conversation he could be careless with. The scope of her knowledge remained an unknown.

The Acolyte murmured something to the woman, then departed. The armored footsteps faded as the heavy doors closed. 

Ignis turned toward the woman. He deduced she stood a few feet away. Though anxious for answers, he told himself to be patient.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said. “I assume you are the commander of the Herald.”

A shift in his perception. He tilted his head to the right, sensing she had moved to stand beside him. “To suggest the Herald is commanded like those barbaric hunters is inaccurate. The Herald is the response to my calling. So no, I am not the commander. I am its foundation.”

Her genuine tone offset the arrogant answer. She truly embraced the role. Ignis decided it was best not to make light of this. 

“Your calling is to the victims of Starscourge?” he asked.

“Someone must look after those poor souls now that the light has forsaken them,” she answered, as humble as she had been sincere prior. “I feel their suffering. I bring them peace.”

“It sounds as if you define yourself as an Oracle. This is impossible.” Ignis’s tone, while cordial, carried a note of disbelief. 

She responded with a small, throaty chuckle. “Is it? Perhaps. The reality is we cannot rely on the Lucian family line any longer.”

The desire to protect Noctis’s identity fueled his next words. “And you are certain of that?”

He had the sense she watched him. “Come now, Ignis,” she said, a smile evident in her voice, as was a warning. “To know you is to know Noctis Lucis Caelum. He has fallen from the gods’ grace because of his failures.” 

Ignis stared in her direction. His lips tightened. Memories of Noctis struggling to accept this, and his infection, beat against the calm he had gathered around his heart. How many nights had he held Noctis in his arms while he cried? How long had it taken for him to find peace? 

“He is cast out, not fallen, cursed by—” He caught himself, drew in a short breath. Summoned the calm he’d dismissed at the slight at Noctis. “You say the Herald came into being because of your calling. I fail to understand the connection between you and him.”

She stepped closer. Ignis instinctively backed away. “Noctis Lucis Caelum is dying,” she said, and his heart felt as if it’d been slashed by this reminder. “I feel his life ebbing away. He is beyond all hope. It is why I had my MTs mark him. I will ease his pain. But with your help, we can ease _everyone’s_ suffering, just as the gods intended.”

Fear for Noctis, combined with the intense need to go to him, forced Ignis to drop all civility. 

“You presume I will agree to whatever you propose. In truth, it sounds nothing short of insanity,” he said coldly. “Your MTs attacked our home. We did not ask for your assistance. I will have no part in your scheme.”

She did not reply right away. Ignis waited, tense.

A small hand touched his left cheek.

Ignis gasped, and not because of the unexpected contact. 

The darkness suddenly _changed._

Little by little, it receded, like a curtain drawing back. Misshapen blobs of manifested, turned into definitive shapes. Yet it wasn’t this introduction of shape that stole Ignis’s breath. 

It was the _re_ introduction of color.

A mixture of black, gray, white, and slate blue, but color all the same. Ignis held up his trembling hand, hovering almost ghost-like against a backdrop of gray, the wedding ring around his finger almost iridescent in the light. Beyond it, the room was blurred, as if he peered through smudged glass. Realized for the first time both his eyes were open. An onslaught of emotion instantly challenged years’ worth of acceptance of his blindness. 

“What you offered to the gods,” the woman said, almost cooed, reached him through the haze of color and shape. “I can restore.”

Ignis glanced down at the pale, upturned face of the beautiful young woman standing beside him. Her white hair tumbled past her shoulders. Large, luminous eyes fringed by long lashes watched him. For a moment, he swore Lady Lunafreya looked up at him. The similarity was there, but this face appeared older. Harder. 

Then his gaze drifted to the photograph in her hand. Understanding his need to see it, she turned it face up. Ignis’s heart pounded at the image of him and Noctis. In this instant, he didn’t care how or where she’d come across the picture. Memory took over.

_Noctis turned toward him, a half-smile highlighting the amusement in his eyes as he attempted to take Ignis’s glasses from his face. Ignis’s hand grazed the edge of Noctis’s sleeve to thwart his intentions._

_“Mind telling me what it is you’re planning, Noct?” he asked, a brow lifted._

_Noctis’s grin widened. “Just trying to see if it’s really that easy to steal your glasses, Specs.”_

_Ignis offered him a partial smile. “Then I suggest you do so when I’m not looking at you.”_

_“But you’re always looking at me,” he countered, that smile now turning sly._

_Ignis’s pulse quickened. “It’s my duty to watch you,” he replied, to which Noctis responded with a knowing ‘Uh huh.’_

_That night, Noctis succeeded in taking his glasses despite his watching him. He let it happen because he wanted to see that smile again._

The spell of memory broke when she retracted the photo. Breathing hard, his body shaking from turbulent emotion, Ignis cast a questioning look her way.

“How—?” His voice was no more than a choked whisper. “Who are you?”

She removed her hand from his face. The curtain returned, plunging his world into darkness. He emitted a small, strangled cry at its departure. No! He hadn’t seen the color of Noctis’s eyes.

She circled his wrist with slender fingers. “You ask me my name, Ignis Scientia, former advisor and now consort of the fallen Lucian king,” she said, speaking in clear tones. “I am Stella Nox Fleuret. By the gods’ decree, I am to bring the dawn. Deliver the Ring of the Lucii to me, and I will restore your sight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The photo Ignis saw is based off a shot from my playthrough. Also, THE PLOT THICKENSSS!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis agrees to stay with the Herald of the Dawn to await Noctis's arrival. Meanwhile, Noctis continues to struggle against his worsening condition.

****

Chapter Six

Ignis couldn’t summon the voice to respond to Stella Nox Fleuret’s words. Nor did he react when the small fingers circling his wrist gradually moved up his arm.

“It is a surprise to you, I’m sure,” she said, seemingly oblivious to his lack of response. “You, who believed the Oracle blood died with Lady Lunafreya and her brother. I _am_ an Oracle. The gods themselves awakened me. The time for individual healing is past. My purpose is to eradicate Starscourge. I cannot fulfill it unless I have the Ring.” Her hand reached his upper arm. “And it is no small gift I offer you, Ignis. Do not let those last moments with your fallen king be in darkness. Let me help you see him again.” 

Ignis swallowed. The part of his mind given to logic and reason insisted he question her further on her apparent ties to the Oracle bloodline. But he couldn’t focus on it. Couldn’t focus on anything other than the memory of that photograph. The memory of _sight_. Ah, to see Noctis again, truly see him, sent his heart racing. His body shook, as if unable to contain his emotions. He reached for the photograph, the words, ‘Yes,’ settling on the tip of his tongue— 

Ignis caught himself. No. She was wrong. Touch allowed Ignis to know the curve of Noctis’s lips when he smiled, the way his brow knitted each time his caresses brought him pleasure. Even when Noctis had his face pressed to Ignis’s shoulder or against his back, he knew his expressions. The face he wore now was as familiar to him as the younger version that haunted Ignis’s dreams during those years of separation. This woman offered him nothing he did not already possess. 

The tremors wracking his body gradually faded. Hands relaxed at his sides. He sensed Stella Nox Fleuret watching him, could almost picture the casual way she held the photograph. Perhaps even offered it. Its temptation faded at the fierce reminder of _why_ he had sacrificed his sight. 

“Ah. You have come to a decision?” she asked. Her hand rested on his shoulder, as if preparing to touch his face once more. “Say it, and I shall give you what you desire most.”

Ignis lifted her hand from his shoulder, as if it were poison, and let it drop between them. “Madam.” He spoke with icy formality. “Despite your earlier boast, you do not, in fact, know me at all. You have taken me here against my will. You talk of the gods and Oracles. You ask me for the Ring, which is neither mine to give nor a power anyone outside the Lucian royal family can use. I will not assist you in this matter regardless of any promise you may offer.”

There was a brief pause. As if she wasn’t expecting his refusal. The air fairly crackled with tension. Ignis responded to it, shoulders hunched, hands flexing in anticipation of _something_. While she hadn’t shown aggression thus far, he knew her position in the Herald accustomed her to obedience. 

She made a soft sound of acknowledgment. “You are a man of stubborn convictions,” she said, her tone suggesting it was a compliment. It didn’t relax him. “I’d expect no less from one born and bred to serve his king. For you _are_ a good servant, Ignis. And a greater consort, it would seem. I accept your refusal of my gift.”

Ignis turned his face toward her. Her chose his next words carefully. “What of me now? Am I to go free?”

“If only it were so,” she said. “You see, Noctis Lucis Caelum is on his way here. He comes for you, but he will find only peace.”

Ignis took a step toward her. “No,” he said, speaking sharply. “You will not harm him.”

She fell silent for a brief time. Each passing moment only increased Ignis’s desire to leave. Thoughts of Noctis on his way here, alone, at the mercy of his infection, unsettled him.

“Ah.” Stella’s response was low. “He has not asked you to do this for him, has he?” 

Ignis didn’t answer. Memories of Noctis’s feverish murmurings dominated his thoughts. Begging him to stop the pain. Ignis always responded by holding him closer. He knew what the future looked like. It didn’t lessen the dread he felt for the day he’d have the knife in his hand. 

His silence answered her question, and she murmured again. “I will make a bargain with you, Ignis. As I said, I have no interest in harming you or Noctis Lucis Caelum. When he arrives, I will grant you the time you need. All I ask in return is your agreement to remain here.”

Ignis frowned thoughtfully at her. “If your intentions are to console me so I give you the Ring, it is not a venture you will succeed in. I have already refused you once.”

Stella approached him on light footsteps. Her hand grazed his sleeve. “The Ring is a subject I am more than happy to discuss with you and the fallen king. For now, all I desire is for you to have this moment. It is something I provide all the families who bring their afflicted loved ones here.” Her tone softened. “He is in great pain, Ignis. My MTs tell me hunters already pursue him. Don’t let the hunters cut him down like an animal.”

The very idea of men and women they once worked alongside killing Noctis twisted Ignis’s heart. He hated to admit it, but Stella was right. If he was to be with Noctis again, his only recourse was to stay. More importantly, it provided an opportunity to discover if Stella’s claim to being an Oracle held merit. The energy she radiated, combined with her touch partially restoring his sight, demanded an explanation. 

Ignis sighed. “I will remain here,” he said. “But I have one condition.”

He sensed Stella lean in closer. “Name it.” 

Memories flooded Ignis’s mind, forcing him to look away. All those mornings on the balcony, the comfortable silences, the conversations, times of laughter and tears. Preparing meals while Noctis distracted him in the most wonderful- and infuriating- ways. Waking up to Noctis’s body pressed to his, the feel of his cheek against his chest, the soft sound of his breathing. To have and to hold, rather than hold but _never_ have. Ignis spent years conditioning himself to the latter. Those little stolen moments were just that, instances to be looked upon with wistful regret before turning his mind to the present. This was one of those times. Knowing when to hold on, and when to let go.

Ignis steeled himself against the well of emotion threatening to drag him down. Turning to Stella, he spoke words often thought, but never uttered.

“You must let me be the one to bring him peace.”

The hand at his arm tightened. Warmth generated from her touch reinforced the ache in his heart. 

“It shall be as you wish,” she said.

Ignis glanced in her direction. She had disrupted their lives, taken him from their home, sent MTs after Noctis. Tormented him with the idea of seeing again. And yet, he found he couldn’t be angry with her. Not when she’d deliver Noctis to him. Ensured the final mercy to be his. 

Ignis didn’t intend to break down in front of her. But break down he did. He slumped to the floor, a hand covering his eyes, while low, choking sobs echoed in his ears. 

Stella touched his shoulder. She said nothing. She understood. 

***

Noctis grunted and went to a knee. He pressed a shaking hand to his chest, felt the rapid beating of his heart beneath his palm. The heat emanating from his infection. They’d gone about five hours before a horde of daemons forced them off the road. As they were still too far from the first way station, they sought safety at the nearest haven. When Gladio suggested they start his training, Noctis agreed. He needed to get his mind off things. His body, however, didn’t seem inclined to cooperate.

Gladio heaved a sigh and shouldered his sword. Sympathy mixed with some impatience surfaced in his eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got, Noct?” he asked. Under other circumstances, he’d have said this in a taunting manner. Something to light a fire inside Noctis. Now, he sounded concerned. Frightened.

Noctis clenched his teeth as he stood. The sword in his hand felt as heavy as at least three of Gladio’s great swords. Sweat poured down his face despite the cooler temperatures. “I’m good,” he rasped. He steadied the sword, ignored the pain running down his arms. “Let’s do it again.”

Gladio watched him for a moment, doubt clearly showing in his face. But then he set his sword. “All right. Again.”

Noctis gripped the hilt. Then, with a cry, he sprang forward, his sword a white flash in the air. Gladio blocked his initial strike, pivoted on his heel, and shoved at Noctis. He stumbled forward, barely managing to catch himself before he fell. Chest aching from the effort, his limbs growing heavier by the second, Noctis turned and flew at Gladio again. The taller man’s face demonstrated a little sadness as he swatted him aside. This time, Noctis hit the ground.

“Had enough?” Gladio asked. 

Noctis picked himself up. His jaw ached from where he struck it on the stone. He tasted blood in his mouth. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not even close to fine.” Gladio set his sword down. “I think that’s enough for now. You’re exhausted.”

Noctis knew his friend was right. He _was_ exhausted. The long trip on the bike, the mile-long hike to the haven while carrying camping equipment, already tested the limits of his admittedly low stamina. Yet all this meant little to him. He wanted, _needed_ , to get to Ignis. To do so, he had to be ready. 

Gladio, interpreting his thoughts, huffed and crossed his arms. “I know how badly you want to move on. Tell me, this, Noct: what good will you be if you can barely move when you _do_ find him? I doubt a handshake is the kind of reunion you’re looking for.”

Hearing his intentions put so bluntly heated Noctis’s face as if he was still a teenager coping with yearnings he didn’t understand. 

At seeing this, Gladio cracked a wry smile. “What the hell you gotta be embarrassed about? Only natural. And the way I hear it, you two are—”

“No offense, Gladio, but you’re not helping.” Noctis tossed the sword to the ground and sat. He stared at the crackling fire. A perverse need to stick his right hand into the flames caused his fingers to twitch. He dismissed it.

Gladio sighed again, then approached the cooler. He withdrew a brown and green bottle, tossed the green one to Noctis. After removing the cap with a practiced hand, he lifted the bottle in Noctis’s direction. “Drink up,” he said, and took a long swig.

At realizing his thirst, Noctis drank. The instant the bitter concoction touched his tongue, he spat it out. “The hell is this?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Another of Kimya’s special brews,” Gladio said, settling on the opposite side of the fire across from Noctis. His gaze dropped to the bottle in his hand. Firelight danced along its exterior, transforming the drops of water into flickers of light. “Iris told us about it. Supposed to help heal wounds and stamina. So do me a favor and don’t bitch about the taste.” 

Guilt dragged at Noctis’s heart. He sipped at the potion- all he could manage without gagging- and said no more. After a time, he felt its healing effects. Little by little, his energy returned. As it did, his irritation ebbed. Sighing, he set the bottle aside.

“I’m really sorry, Gladio. I know you’re only thinking of me. It’s just…” he trailed off.

“You’re so damned worried about Iggy, you don’t care about yourself. I get it.” Gladio lifted his gaze to his. “I’ve been in your shoes lots of times. With you, with Iggy, especially after Altissia,” he said, and Noctis couldn’t help but react to the memory. Gladio picked up a stick and stoked the fire. Sparks flew into the air. “Prompto gives me heart attacks every time he goes missing on hunts. Always the same reason, too. ‘Just had to get a good shot of you!’” He mimicked Prompto’s tone with amazing accuracy. “I’ve taken more risks because I’m so busy looking for him. He swears up and down he won’t do it again, but you know Prom.”

“Yeah.” Noctis smiled faintly. “Another shot comes along, and he’s gone.”

“Yep.” Fond exasperation echoed in Gladio’s deep voice. “You gotta take care of yourself, Noct. Don’t disappear on me. I don’t wanna be the one to explain _that_ to Iggy.”

Though his comment was light hearted, it spoke of the pain Gladio and the others endured during Noctis’s ten-year absence. Ignis’s refusal to talk of that time told him he suffered the most. 

Sensing the downward trend of the conversation, Gladio clapped his hands on his knees and leaned back. “Okay. Here’s the deal: you make us something to eat while I take a look around. Don’t worry about trying to put a recipe together. It’s all pre-made.”

Noctis didn’t need to know what pre-made meal Gladio brought along. Fewer things gave the big guy more pleasure than Cup Noodles. “Expecting trouble?” he asked, rising to his feet. His legs wobbled a bit. Sleeping on the hard ground tonight wouldn’t help alleviate his discomfort. 

Gladio, already on his feet with his sword in hand, turned his gaze to the surrounding countryside. Outside their immediate circle of light, it was as black as pitch. “Daemons sometimes creep around havens. They love sneaking up on you.” His expression indicated this happened all too often. 

Noctis nodded. Last thing he wanted was to run into trouble. “How long will you be?”

“Fifteen minutes, tops. Get that food going,” Gladio said, casting him an eager smile. “Feelin’ like two Cup Noodles tonight.”

Noctis laughed. “You got it. Be careful.”

Gladio responded with a wave of the hand. He then turned and dropped off the edge. Darkness swallowed him up.

Noctis set three Cup Noodles on the small table, then took the percolator and headed for the fire. After placing it on the grill, he sank to his haunches to watch it tremble as the water rolled and churned inside it. It wasn’t long before his gaze drifted to their darkened surroundings. Having lived in Lestallum for over a year, he was accustomed to city noise. The silence this darkness brought was so absolute, it muffled the flickering fire, the sound of his breathing. Unease sent chills down his spine. It turned to frozen fear at the echo of approaching footsteps.

Noctis shot to his feet, Ignis’s daggers in his hand. Moving slowly, he edged closer to the nearest side of the stone, eyes darting back and forth. Sweat dampened his palms, threatened his hold on the daggers. He tightened his grip. 

He took another tentative step toward the edge. The circle of light generated from his belt lamp showed bits of grass poking through the stone. A dying howl similar to a sabertusk pierced the air. Shivers slid all along his skin, cold fear meeting the heat of his infection. Sweat dampened his brow, his chest, under his arms. At hearing the familiar, metallic creaking of an Iron Giant, it felt as if he’d been hit in the chest with a blast of fire. Choking back a pained gasp, Noctis dropped to his knees. Ahead, the flaming sword inherent to a Red Giant manifested, ghost-like against the darkness. It cut through the air with a heavy _whoosh_. Noctis thought he heard human screams before a sharp pain assaulted his mind.

He gripped his head with a hand, the clatter of Ignis’s dagger hitting the stone dulled by the throbbing intensity pounding his mind. Disjointed images appeared behind his closed eyes: Bahamut’s impassive face, silently judging him. The faces of his ancestors, concealed beneath helms, weapons primed. King Regis’s anguish. Himself, kneeling in a pool of blood, eyes flashing with malignant delight, mouth open in silent laughter, his right arm black as an oil slick. Three bodies arrayed before him: Gladio, Prompto, Ignis. 

And there, looming behind him, Ardyn’s twisted smile. Black ooze spilled from his absurdly wide grin. Satisfaction put a sharp gleam in his bright, yellow eyes.

Something inside Noctis splintered. His heart, perhaps. Or his mind. 

With a sorrowful cry, he yanked himself from his visions. He lay flat on his back, his arm perilously close to the fire. Flames coated the material of his glove. Panicking, Noctis rolled away. He patted his hand and forearm with frantic movements until the flames died out. Grimacing at the stench of burnt skin, he peeled off the remains of the glove, wincing as he did so. As he ripped at his sleeve, he counted himself fortunate he wasn’t wearing Ignis’s jacket. The thought of it sustaining any damage did nothing to ease his worry about its owner. Bad enough his own dreams tormented him.

Footsteps at his back brought him up short. He heard the cocking of a gun, the metallic ring of a sword pulled free, and rolled to his feet, dagger in hand. A pair of hunters stood a short distance away, their eyes and faces hard. Noctis didn’t recognize them. He was sure they didn’t recognize him, either. 

At realizing the Starscourge was in plain view, he tucked his arm to his chest. The movement only intensified the hatred in their eyes. 

“You alone out here, afflicted?” one asked. He thrust his sword forward. Its edge caught the light, giving it an orange sheen. “Ain’t there a special haven for your kind?”

Noctis lowered his dagger. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said.

The other hunter circled him, a gun in his hand. Noctis stiffened when he felt the cold barrel against the back of his head. “Too bad,” the hunter said. “Cause you’re gonna make trouble for someone else if we don’t take you out now.” 

“Better him than us,” his friend agreed.

Noctis, not appreciating being spoken to as if he were invisible, felt his temper rising. His arm twitched. He trapped it against his chest. Forced himself to stay calm despite seeing his death in the hunters’ faces. “Leave me alone.”

“What, so you can do to us what your friend did to the hunter out there?” One of them jerked a thumb in the direction Gladio had gone. “That’s right,” he said, seeing the flash of surprise in Noctis’s eyes. “Found a hunter out there, or what’s left of him. Not gonna let that happen to us.”

Panic over Gladio’s safety had Noctis disregard his own as he sprinted toward the other side of the rock. 

“Hey!” The hunter with the gun let off a shot. It grazed Noctis’s right arm. Pain exploded through him. The bullets were imbued with holy power. That he was subject to its effects frightened him more than he cared to admit. Dropping to the ground below, Noctis darted off, a hand clutching his wound. Blood warmed his fingers. He sensed the hunters behind him. Flinched when a second shot narrowly missed his shoulder. The bullet struck the ground. Clods of dirt and rocks rocketed into the air. Noctis shielded his face as he pressed on.

The limited circle of light his personal lamp created gave him no understanding of the terrain. When a large boulder appeared ahead of him, it took everything Noctis had not to collide with it. Instead, he dropped to the ground behind it. Switched off his lamp. Waited, his hand over his mouth to stifle his heavy breathing. 

Rushing footsteps slowed as they neared his location. Noctis glimpsed the hunters’ lamps at chest and waist. The small, glowing circles appeared as dancing light with each movement. As one drew closer, Noctis’s hand dropped to the holstered gun at his thigh. He hated using it against one of the hunters, but he had no choice. He couldn’t die here.

“Got a blood trail,” a hunter said. 

As he spoke, Noctis glanced at his arm. The sleeve was soaked through. Rivers of red glistened on his skin. He tore at the other sleeve with his teeth, bound it as quickly as possible. The night air chilled his exposed arm, making him shiver. His right arm burned hotter than ever. The world started dimming. His head felt heavy. Noctis clenched his teeth. No, not now! Briefly, he pressed his brow to the boulder, registered its cool, rough surface digging into him. 

But then a flash of silver appeared at the junction of his shoulder and neck. Noctis froze. He glanced up at the hunter, read his intent. A burst of adrenaline sent him into action.

Spinning round, he pulled the gun and took aim. The hunter disarmed him with a skilled movement of the sword. Noctis then brought his right arm up to block the second strike. Groaned when the blade cut into him. He struggled against the hunter’s strength, who put all his weight behind the sword. The blade went deeper. Noctis released another cry. 

The hunter leered at him, hatred in his eyes. As Noctis met his gaze, rage overcame him. For now Ardyn’s features were superimposed over the hunter’s. A red haze draped over Noctis’s vision. The last thing he recalled was launching himself at his enemy, the feel of torn flesh beneath his fingers, the taste of blood, and the sharp echo of a terrified scream. 

***

The sound of a crackling fire brought Noctis around. Groaning, he pushed himself to an elbow. He lay inside the tent. Outside, Gladio ate from a Cup Noodles, his gaze fixed on nothing at all. Relieved he was safe, Noctis pulled free from the restrictive sleeping bag, wincing at the tight bandages around his right arm. When did that happen? His mind felt muddled. As he parted the flaps to emerge, Gladio glanced his way. The greeting Noctis intended to give died before it reached his lips.

Gladio’s face was haunted, his eyes bleak. It looked as if he’d been crying. Without a word, he set his meal aside, stood, and approached Noctis. The next instant, he enveloped Noctis in his arms. Started to shake. Noctis, momentarily surprised by the reaction, found his gaze drifting toward the far end of the stone. At first, he didn’t understand what he was looking at. Why did the rock shimmer red? It looked just like— 

Noctis froze. Dim memories straight from his nightmares sent a cold wave of fear over him. Turned his voice into a choked rasp he barely recognized as his own. 

“Gladio? What happened? Did I…?”

Gladio released him. The face he presented to Noctis was as anguished as he’d ever seen on his friend. It put tears into his eyes. 

“Found a body of a hunter nearby. I knew him, so I took his tag. That’s when I heard screaming. By the time I got here, you…” He trailed off, as if too distraught to speak more.

Noctis gripped the front of Gladio’s shirt with shaking hands. “Tell me.”

Gladio drew in a slow breath, then turned away. Noctis noted he wore Prompto’s gun at his hip. “Best if I spare you the details,” he said. He started collecting all the kitchen items. “I did what I could for them. The hunters they were traveling with will be looking for them soon. You get some sleep. I’m going back for the bike. Should give you some time to rest.”

Numb, Noctis watched Gladio stuff the items into a bag with swift, jerky motions. Something about the way he glanced at the bloodstain concerned Noctis. A particularly disturbing vision, like peering through another’s eyes, kept appearing over the bloodstain. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Gladio went still. At length, he cast a grim look Noctis’s way. “Your arm’s starting to turn black. And,” he sighed, frustration and helplessness evident in his voice. “We’re gonna have to push hard to get to Oathe Haven. So get all the rest you can.” 

With that, Gladio shouldered the bag, took his sword, and walked off. Noctis waited until he disappeared off the edge of the stone before slowly returning to the tent. He sank onto the sleeping bag, careless of the solid rock beneath his knees. He didn’t sleep like he knew he should. Noctis simply sat there, shoulders slumped. A sense of hopelessness washed over him. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Lifting his face skyward, he closed his eyes and prayed, for the first time in many years, to the Six. 

_I don’t know if you’re listening, but please, let me see him again…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever have one of those chapters that turn out completely different than intended? This is one of them. A tender, bittersweet reunion is in the works, everyone! Thank you so much for reading. Comment and kudos always appreciated!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Gladio continue their journey to Oathe Haven, and to Ignis.

**Chapter Seven**

Hours passed. The road went by, seemingly endless, endlessly black. Noctis attributed this observation to the troublesome thoughts concerning his conduct at the campsite. Gladio had yet to divulge any new information. This refusal concluded whatever Noctis had done, it’d been too difficult to talk about. Guilt over the hunters’ deaths notwithstanding, there existed fear: the fear that part of him _enjoyed_ killing them. On top of this, rage burned inside him, the sort unlike anything he ever experienced. As if he’d explode at any provocation.

His breath caught. The nightmarish visions of him standing over Ignis’s body, Ignis’s blood on his hands, took on new meaning.

Gods. What if he attacked him, too?

_He is safer with us._

Hot tears spilled down his cheeks. Heat from his infection suffused him, filling him with as much rage as anguish. 

“Gladio,” he croaked. “Pull over.” 

Gladio, somehow having heard his plea despite the motorcycle’s roar, obliged him. He switched the motor off and turned toward Noctis. At seeing the distress in Noctis’s face, Gladio’s expression mirrored his concern. 

“Hey, you all right?”

Noctis’s throat tightened around the sobs gathering within. “I can’t do it, Gladio.” 

“Do what?”

Suddenly angry, Noctis sprang from the motorcycle. “Don’t bullshit me,” he said. His right arm jerked, as if it wanted to be free from his shoulder. He looked at his hands, fresh anguish filling him at seeing the stark differences between them. The black concealing his right hand edged its way past his forearm. Noctis balled his hands into fists. His nails cut into his palm. “Think about what happened back there. I might not even be _me_ when we get to Oathe Haven. I’m going to hurt him like I did those hunters.”

Gladio studied him. “Is that what you think you did?” 

“Isn’t it?” Noctis shot back. He remembered the bloodstain, the echo of terrified screams. The anguish in Gladio’s eyes when Noctis emerged from the tent. “You won’t tell me what I did. What the hell else am I supposed to believe?”

Gladio dropped his gaze to the ground. A heavy sigh passed his lips. “You didn’t kill them, Noct.” He spoke softly, not unlike the instance when he recounted Iris’s suffering. “I did.”

The admission confused Noctis. “…what?”

Gladio nodded. To Noctis, it seemed the response was more of an assurance for him rather than an agreement. “You were attacking one of them when I got there. Clawing at him. Not gonna lie: the look in your eyes scared the shit out of me.”

His retelling stitched Noctis’s memories together. Shame and dread joined the guilt dragging at Noctis’s heart. “You had to pull me away, didn’t you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Gladio replied. “You had this look on your face. Like you realized what you were doing. You backed off. The other hunter got behind you. Would have shot you if I didn’t take him out. I finished the other hunter off, too.”

Noctis, struggling to corroborate the meaning of Gladio’s words to his fragmented memories, slowly shook his head. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“Not surprising. You’d passed out while I buried the bodies. Probably hit your head on the stone.” He gestured toward Noctis’s temple. 

So, that explained the nagging pain in his head. He stared at his friend for several moments. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

Gladio scratched at his face, fingertips grazing the scar he’d received while defending Noctis against a bully. “That’s the thing. You didn’t ask before now.”

Noctis frowned. “You _waited_ for me to ask?” he said, fighting back annoyance.

“Yep. Look, Noct,” Gladio said, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. Light from the personal lamp attached to his breast pocket reflected the sincerity in his eyes. “Point is you stopped yourself. Whatever’s happening to you right now, it hasn’t taken you over.” He dropped his hand to Noctis’s bandaged arm. The skin along the edges had darkened to brown, like old blood. “I know you’re scared. And if you’re scared, it means you’re still human. Still _you._ You won’t hurt Iggy. He knows it, too.”

All lingering annoyance faded as the full impact of Gladio’s words hit Noctis. It was as if he’d received a physical blow to the heart, but rather than stop it, it broke the chains of fear and guilt holding it prisoner. 

When he offered a faint smile of appreciation, Gladio patted him with rough affection. “That’s more like it. Let’s keep it movin’. Don’t want to make the man feel he’s waiting another ten years for you.” His mouth curved into a smile. 

Noctis didn’t realize he laughed until he registered the sound echoing in his ears as such. Caught up in the moment, he drew Gladio into a tight hug. The big guy’s laugh was a gentle rumble in his chest as he reciprocated. It served as the final layer cementing Noctis’s rejuvenated hope around a heart ravaged by uncertainty.

Minutes later, Gladio sped off, Noctis’s arms secured around his waist, his mind and heart set firmly ahead. The heat his arm and shoulder generated lessened, if only a little. He took it as a good sign. 

*** 

Another night passed. As they neared the second way station, Noctis anticipated sleeping on something softer than the ground. No amount of blankets spread on top of his sleeping bag alleviated the feel of rock against his back. How he endured it for so long in his youth brought a wry smile to his lips. Gladio, who happened to glance over his shoulder in time to see it, flashed a grin.

“Must be thinkin’ about the camper bed.”

“Not all of us have natural padding,” he replied, citing a jibe he and Prompto often made at Gladio’s expense. Now, as then, Gladio responded with a grunt, though the warmth of memory shone in his eyes. “No taking back on giving me the bed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gladio replied, and turned his attention to the road.

Noctis glanced at the passing scenery. It didn’t change much from when they first set out, except the light fixtures on the highway numbered in the fewer. The threat of daemons prevented workers from maintaining them. “Think the way station is safe?”

Though he couldn’t see Gladio’s face, Noctis imagined his friend’s expression darkening. Their attempt to stay at the first one didn’t pan out, hence the reason for extended nights at camp. Neither wanted to run the risk of encountering hunters who might have known the ones Gladio took care of. 

“It should be,” Gladio said. “Not many active hunts in the area. No guarantees it won’t be smooth sailing getting there. Might need your help in taking care of any daemons.”

The extended trips also allowed for Gladio to resume Noctis’s training. While he was limited to what he could do thanks to his injuries, he held his own. The infection’s apparent lapse in daily bouts of pain also helped. There was no telling what kind of resistance they’d encounter upon arriving at Oathe Haven. 

“You got it,” Noctis said. “Just remember to leave me a few.”

Gladio laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Noct. Remember, you need to save your energy for other things,” he said, a teasing note in his voice.

Noctis smirked at his back and grumbled an agreement. Gladio laughed again.

Ahead, the road split into two directions, the second being a dirt path marked by a small lantern. Its tiny flame seemed even more so in the overwhelming darkness. Gladio turned onto the road, sending clouds of dust into the air. Noctis peered around Gladio’s back. He knew the way station to be surrounded by lights. It must be so far down the road, the distance remained too great for them to see. 

They’d traveled in silence for close to an hour when daemons appeared. Gladio slammed on the brakes, nearly throwing himself and Noctis off as he did so. But the sudden stop did little to keep Noctis from arming himself and leaping from the seat. 

Gladio put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Watch my back,” he said. He’d already shouldered his great sword. “Keep them from the bike.”

Noctis acknowledged him. With that, Gladio barreled toward the daemons, his sword flashing in the motorcycle’s headlight. As Noctis watched his friend cut through the enemies with ease, he doubted he’d need his help. When one slipped under Gladio’s overhead swing, however, Noctis finished it off with a well-timed throw. Ignis’s dagger speared the daemon’s chest, sending it to the ground. Noctis readied his second dagger, eyes following Gladio as he continued his onslaught. 

Once he dispatched the last one, its dying scream echoing into the night, Gladio recovered Noctis’s dagger and headed back to the bike. He handed it over just as an Iron Giant manifested in the distance. A sharp burst of pain flooded Noctis’s senses. The same visions that haunted him at the haven came to mind, forcing a low moan from him.

“Noct,” Gladio said, alarm in his voice as Noctis pressed a hand to his head. 

He drew in a trembling breath. Felt the rage wanting to escape, held firm to it. “Gladio,” he wheezed. “Get us out of here.”

Gladio didn’t waste any time. In seconds, they were back on the bike, Gladio pushing it for all it was worth. The Iron Giant’s heavy footsteps gradually receded, as did Noctis’s pain. He pressed his brow to Gladio’s back, breathed a small sigh of relief. 

“Any idea why you start hurting whenever those guys show up?” Gladio asked above the roar of the engine.

Noctis leaned back in the seat. He trained his gaze on the blurred road passing beneath them. “They’re bigger, maybe? I’m not sure.”

“The Herald might know something,” Gladio said. “Think we should ask?”

Noctis shook his head. “The only thing I want from them is Ignis,” he replied. “Don’t really care about the rest.”

Gladio went quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “Won’t matter if we know why.”

Neither spoke again for some time.

The way station appeared at the end of the road a few hours later. Four lights surrounded it. Technically three, since the bulb on one of them was out. The way station also appeared to have been deserted for some time. Old fire pits made black circles on the ground. Empty bottles, cans, and other debris littered the area. Ordinarily the sight of such desolation would be enough to put dread into Noctis’s heart. He welcomed it now. Especially since that brief bout of pain took so much out of him. All he wanted was to fall into the camper bed. Regain as much strength as possible for the final push. 

Noctis stretched the soreness from his legs while Gladio rolled the bike toward a canopy on the verge of collapse. He withdrew what supplies they needed, then yanked the canopy on top of it. It settled over the bike with a crackling rush of plastic. Next, Gladio inspected one of the free-standing grills arranged by some old tables. 

Noctis noted his friend’s scowl. “Any of them working?”

“Doesn’t look like it. It’s fine. Fire pits’ll do. You get comfortable in the camper,” he said. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat.”

“Cup Noodles. Again.” Noctis sent Gladio a teasing smile.

Gladio smirked. “Just for that, I’m not giving you any shrimp.”

Noctis, who loved the shrimp the best, held up his hands in surrender. Gladio responded with a pleased smile, then set to work. Noctis shouldered his bag and proceeded for the caravan.

A quick search of the cabinet above the sink yielded matches and a small oil lamp. Once he had it lit, Noctis adjusted the flame to give him more light. It threw wavering shadows on the wall while Noctis tested the sink faucet. It shook, then emitted a steady stream of water. It smelled horrible, but it was water all the same. No such luck with the bathroom. A potent stench emanating from the closed door was enough to convince him it wasn’t worth opening. Glad the camper bed was near a window, Noctis resigned himself to washing up in the sink. As he lathered up his chest as best he could, Noctis couldn’t help but think of the last time he showered. And it wasn’t just limited to the idea of hot water, either. 

Closing his eyes, Noctis allowed himself to remember one of the many instances he and Ignis showered together. The memories were so potent, he became increasingly aware of the ache in his heart, the tightening in his pants. Overcome by a wave of pent-up desire, his hand slipped past the waistband of his boxers, damp fingers curling around his stiffened cock. Recalling Ignis doing just this brought forth a small moan. He gave himself to the memory, his hand emulating the slow, sensual movements Ignis used that day. Imagined he heard Ignis murmuring in his ear, felt the heat of his body as he pressed against him. 

His orgasm hit him fast and hard, mirrored in the ragged gasps passing his lips. Breathless, he hunched over the sink, conscious of the pounding of his heart, the twitching of his cock against his palm. Thoughts of Ignis’s tender administrations afterward brought tears to his eyes. Noctis blinked them away. Soon.

Recovering himself, Noctis finished washing up. Once he changed into fresh clothes, he sank onto the bed with an audible sigh. He remained still for some moments, simply enjoying the stillness when Gladio announced their Cup Noodles were ready. Noctis cast a look of longing at the bed, slightly saggy and a bit unpleasant smelling, pushed himself to his feet, and headed out. 

Gladio presented Noctis with one of the white containers as soon as he sat across from him. Noctis accepted it with a nod of thanks. He peeled back the paper cover. A burst of steam flavored by shrimp filled his senses, inciting his hunger. As he ate, he felt Gladio’s eyes on him. 

“Hey.” He spoke softly. “You gonna be okay traveling to Oathe Haven from here?”

Noctis swallowed what was in his mouth. “Ask me again tomorrow,” he said. At seeing his somewhat humorous answer didn’t satisfy, Noctis sighed. “I’ll be all right, Gladio. Don’t have much choice.”

Gladio murmured his agreement. He stared into his noodles, as if attempting to glean answers from them. Emotion flashed in his eyes. A little smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “It’s been one hell of a ride, huh?”

Noctis lowered the fork from his lips, his need to eat no longer a priority. The exchange, nearly identical to the night before they went to Insomnia, brought tears to his eyes. He forced himself to smile through them. “Sure has. Wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

Gladio cracked a small, appreciative smile at this. “Be better if we had the others here. Guess this’ll have to do,” he said, pulling Prompto’s gun from his waist and setting it on the ground between him and Noctis. Next, he produced a photograph. He arranged it against the gun with a careful hand. Then, casting Noctis another smile, he peeled the lid from his Cup Noodles, took a moment to appreciate its tantalizing scent, and dug in. 

Noctis’s gaze drifted to the photo. It was one of the many group shots Prompto had taken over the years. At seeing it had been snapped before they left Insomnia the first time, Noctis’s smile turned sad. Yet he understood why Gladio held onto this picture. It represented a time when things were still relatively normal for everyone. When the biggest obstacle they faced was getting him safely to Altissia. 

Noctis studied himself, taking in the young, untested face, the somewhat cocky smile as he waved toward the camera. Prompto, face glowing with excitement at the prospect of their upcoming adventure. Gladio’s smile suggesting he shared Prompto’s excitement. Ignis also smiling, the placement of his hand on Noctis’s shoulder maintaining his steadfast determination to go with him, no matter what. 

A memory, long buried, surfaced in his mind. He wondered how he forgot it. 

“Thinking about the time we took that?” Gladio asked.

Noctis took the picture in hand. His expression softened. “I was going to ask him to stay with me.” 

Gladio didn’t have to ask who Noctis meant. “And not just cause of his job, huh? Been meaning to ask you, Noct,” he said as Noctis returned the photo to its resting place. “Did she know?”

Noctis picked at what was left of his Cup Noodles. Luna. It still hurt to think of her, even now. “I’m not sure _I_ knew at the time. But Luna? Yeah, I think she knew. Something about the way she looked at me the last time I saw her.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it any better than that.”

Gladio nodded. “Always got the impression she knew more than she let on. I guess it was part of her being an Oracle. I bet she’d be happy knowing you’re happy with Iggy.”

Noctis smiled his agreement, though it was a sad smile. He finished his meal and stood. “You okay if I go to sleep?”

“Go ahead. I’m gonna finish eating before I scout the area. See you in the morning.” 

Noctis waved to Gladio, then made his way for the caravan. The flame in the lantern quivered as he went past. Noctis paused to kick off his shoes before crawling into bed. That night, he dreamed of Luna and Ignis. He woke with tears in his eyes, and a burning entirely separate from the pain in his arm. After he dressed, he withdrew the small box containing his wedding ring. Ignis’s skull charm necklace rested beneath it, placed there shortly after they set out. Noctis slid the ring back on his finger. Today was the day. He felt it. 

Gladio, having already packed his belongings for the long hike to Oathe Haven, looked up when Noctis emerged from the caravan. His expression echoed Noctis’s resolve.

“Ready?”

Noctis secured his bag at his shoulders. “Ready.”

The first few hours passed swiftly. They stopped to eat, to rest, but the respites were brief. Determination consumed Noctis, a feeling Gladio shared. There were times when Noctis’s pace slowed, or he took a little longer to stand after resting. But he never complained. Though concern reflected in Gladio’s eyes, pride did as well. Their hearts and minds synced, they pressed on into the desolate countryside. 

By dusk, they crossed into the Fallgrove. Profound weariness made standing difficult for Noctis. His shoulders and legs ached, sweat dampened his skin, his hair. Had he access to a mirror, he’d see his fever-bright eyes. 

Gladio stood beside Noctis, breathing heavily. The big guy might have a lot of stamina, but the trek hadn’t been easy for him, either. 

“Can you see the runes?” he asked.

Noctis picked out the blue markings, distant yet visible through the trees. “How far do you think it is?”

“Half a mile, maybe more.” He laid a sturdy hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “Almost there, Noct. How you feeling?”

Noctis sensed the question’s true purpose. They’d come across more than a few daemons on the way here. Fleeing from the Iron Giants took almost everything he had. Knowing it was pointless to lie now, he gave an honest answer. 

“Not great. Better keep going before you end up carrying me.”

Gladio responded with a faint smile, then started down the hill. Noctis looked toward Oathe Haven, his jaw set. _I’m almost there, Ignis._

The pair reached the road. The first thing Noctis noticed was the number of lights. He assumed the Herald saw to keeping them in working order. In fact, the entire length of the road was illuminated this way. Was this the path the afflicted walked toward salvation? If so, then Noctis welcomed it. Each step brought him closer to Ignis. 

But then the inevitable sound of Iron Giants manifesting echoed in the night. 

The entire area swarmed with them. Noctis flinched as his mind and body suffered from simultaneous assault. When he lost his footing, Gladio grabbed him by the arm. Shouted for him to keep going. Noctis, though dizzy and disoriented from pain, obeyed. He kept the rage-inducing visions at bay by picturing Ignis’s face. 

A group of daemons blocked their way. Gladio swore and readied his sword. Noctis’s hands shook so badly, he lost his grip on one of Ignis’s daggers. 

“No,” Gladio said sharply. “Go on ahead. I’ll hold them off.”

The idea of leaving Gladio alone on a daemon infested road, as tired as he was, didn’t sit well with Noctis. But he also knew the longer he remained, the worse _both_ their chances were. 

Gladio stared down at him. Emotion thickened his voice. “Say your goodbyes.”

Noctis swallowed past the lump in his throat. He gripped Gladio’s arm in silent thanks, in silent farewell, and ran.

Daemons continued appearing all around him. Noctis avoided them as quickly as he could, though the constant stopping and redirecting of his steps taxed his strength. The road’s gradual decline boosted his speed, allowing him to put some distance between him and the daemons. The sigils marking Oathe Haven beckoned him. A tall structure reared out of the darkness, its exterior glowing bright red: Costlemark Tower. The walls surrounding the area gave it the look of an Imperial base. The symbol identifying the Herald of the Dawn, picked out by white light, spurned Noctis on. 

Several MTs stood watch outside the entrance. At seeing Noctis wheeling toward them on unsteady legs, they came to attention, weapons primed. Noctis pulled his daggers, ready to defend himself. But the MTs weren’t looking at him. 

A frightened, decidedly human shout echoed at his back. Noctis quickly glanced over his shoulder. A group of men and women streamed onto the road, all bearing the marks of Starscourge. They rushed past Noctis toward the entrance. Several hunters followed suit. 

The MTs sprang into action, exchanging fire with the hunters while the afflicted made for the safety of the walls. Noctis gulped in several breaths of air, called on what limited stamina he had left, and pushed on. 

The MTs summoned to support the guards didn’t stop him. In fact, one gestured he hurry inside. Once, they’d been ordered to kill him. Now they acted for his benefit. Had Noctis any capacity for deeper thought at the moment, he’d appreciate the irony. His need to find Ignis superseded all. 

Noctis trailed after the frightened men and women. He frantically scanned his surroundings. Was he aboard one of the idle Imperial shuttles? In one of the dozens of tents? Desperate, Noctis called Ignis’s name, his voice breaking each time. 

A burst of pain drove him to his knees. Nausea turned his stomach. Shadows hovered at the edge of his perception. Noctis squinted into the distance. As dozens of people hurried past him, a woman in white approached him with slow, measured steps. 

Noctis’s heart pounded in his chest. 

…Luna?

The woman paused in front of him. Extended a hand. Her eyes shone with compassion. 

“We have been waiting for you, Noctis Lucis Caelum.” 

Dumbfounded, all Noctis could do was stare at her. Then he heard a distraught voice call his name. A voice he feared he’d never hear again. He looked past the woman. Tears filled his eyes. A weak, wavering smile touched his lips. He pushed himself to his feet. Took two steps, all he managed, before he felt himself pitching forward.

Ignis’s arms slid around him, securing him to his chest. His scent washed over Noctis, leaving him weak with relief. He felt the warmth of Ignis’s lips touch the crown of his head. Then, with a contented sigh, he dropped his face to Ignis’s shoulder. 

At last. 

He was _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER IS LONG!
> 
> Well, there we have it, everyone! Noctis and Ignis are finally reunited. Updated the story rating, as sexy times are on deck for chapter eight. Thanks for taking the time to read this! :)


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Ignis share a tender, bittersweet reunion, but Stella still has need of their assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, sexy (and sappy) times are here! I went for the soft, romantic angle since it's what I'm more comfortable with. It also suited the story tone better. I'm actually quite pleased with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy! :)

**Chapter Eight**

Stella Nox Fleuret stood in the doorway, a distant yet interested observer to the happenings in the room beyond.

Ignis Scientia sat on the bed beside his unconscious king, fear and concern stealing the color from his face while the doctor gently cut the tattered, dirty bandage wrapped around Noctis Lucis Caelum’s arm. When the white material came away from the skin, sticky with sweat, grime, and blood, the fallen king moaned. His arm lifted, seemingly of its own accord. Ignis gently lowered it to the bed. Leaned over him, his lips at his ear while the doctor swabbed at the affected area. Stella didn’t hear Ignis’s words. She did not need to. She knew the context of such whisperings well enough. What it meant to hear them.

When at last Noctis Lucis Caelum lay still, the doctor packed up his tools. Said something to Ignis, who did not appear to hear him, before leaving a small vial on the bedside table. It emitted a pale glow as fragile as starlight. He emerged from the room, looking nearly as worn as the unconscious man he tended. 

“He’s stable, my Lady,” the doctor said. “Though for how much longer, I cannot say. The disease has progressed thanks to extended daemon exposure. He could turn within days.”

Stella bowed her head. She expected as much. “I thank you for your aid. Go see to the others.”

“My Lady.” The doctor bowed, one hand over his heart. 

As his footsteps receded, Stella turned her gaze back to the room. Ignis had arranged himself alongside his king, his hand resting atop his heart. It was not the first time she witnessed such things. Yet something about the anguished but hopeful look on Ignis’s face called up other instances. These scenes manifested themselves behind him, existing within the room yet outside it. 

A soft step echoed at her back. Stella, still absorbed in the ghost scenes playing out, acknowledged the newcomer with a short nod.

“His is a tireless devotion,” her companion observed. 

Stella shook her head. “More. It is transcendent.” As she spoke, the images gained more detail, flitting about the room around Ignis as if they were his shadows. “As it always is. As it always shall be.” 

“And yet destiny keeps their paths parallel. Their crossing here seems…unexpected.” Stella felt eyes on her. “Your willingness to allow this to play out puzzles me. Do you hope the outcome will be different?”

Stella’s hand hovered by her heart. It beat in time to the lives she sensed on the wane, but none so strong, or as desperate, as the one lying in the room beyond. The fallen king accepted his death with the tired resignation of so many others, yet clung to life. Not for himself. For Ignis. She saw it the moment she looked in his eyes. Such selflessness stirred her. 

“It is within my power to grant them this time,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument or speculation. “The rest will unfold as it must.”

Stella felt, rather than saw, the glimmer of disappointment in the measured gaze at her back. “Do not let this distract you from our purpose here, Lady. We still require the Ring, and the Ring requires a sacrifice.”

“And we will obtain both,” Stella answered, unwavering in her duty to the people. She closed her hand over the doorknob. “Let us leave them be. There are others who need the peace I can offer.”

Her companion withdrew on silent feet. Stella cast another look inside the room. For a brief instance, she witnessed herself sitting on the bed, her face reflecting the desperate hope to snatch a loved one from the jaws of fate. 

Silently, she closed the door. On Ignis, his king, and her memories.

***

Distorted images flashed behind Noctis’s closed lids. Visions of daemons, Ardyn’s mocking smile, Gladio silently shouting for him to go ahead. A group of MTs opening fire- on him? No, not him. They protected him from the hunters. He’d followed the people into the camp, hoping to find Ignis. Pain sent him to his knees. Weakened from his sprint, dizzy from daemon exposure, Noctis cast one, last desperate look ahead. 

She approached him, a slender figure in white, and he believed himself dead. Last time, she had looked at him with such terrible sorrow. Now, she greeted him with a smile. Welcomed him. 

And then Noctis saw _him._ Everything else of consequence faded. 

Noctis’s eyes flew open. He lay in bed, stripped down to nothing but his pants. The bandage at his arm smelled of antiseptic. Pain hummed along the edges of his nerves, present but tolerable, as if held at bay. An unfamiliar ceiling hung overhead. But the gentle fingers sliding across his cheek were as familiar to him as his own. His heart skipped a beat, and he lifted his gaze. 

Ignis leaned over him, his body haloed by light. The brilliant green color of his eyes had shifted to gray-green over the years, yet did nothing to diminish the overwhelming relief shining there. 

Noctis couldn’t speak. It seemed he was still asleep, or back in the crystal, left with nothing but memories and dreams to keep him company. For how else could he be lying in bed with Ignis beside him? His heart raced, then slowed, only to race again when those fingers caressed his face once more. 

Understanding this to be no dream, Noctis pulled Ignis into his arms. He held fast to him, pressed his lips to Ignis’s cheek, to his ear, and, when Ignis turned his face to his, captured his lips with his own. Ignis held on as if he’d never let him go. Noctis didn’t want him to. He wanted time to stop for them both just so he’d remember the feel of Ignis’s lips against his, the warmth of his arms around him. 

Ignis drew back first. He cupped Noctis’s face in his hands. Touched his brow to his. “Noct.” His name was a choked whisper. “I feared we’d never…that _I’d_ never…” His voice broke, his emotions seemingly too great for speech. A tear rolled down his cheek. His shoulders trembled.

Noctis gathered him closer. Thought of all the instances Gladio reassured him during the journey. Knowing Ignis was wrought by the same anxiety, fear, and sorrow, but without friendly counsel, clawed at his heart. All his suffering counted for nothing. Not when compared to the heartache that lay ahead for Ignis. 

_Say your goodbyes._

Ever more conscious of their dwindling time together, he rolled them over so Ignis lay beneath him. Their chests pressed together. Ignis’s hands slid along Noctis’s sides to rest at his waist. The skin beneath his fingers warmed, pleasant, inviting. Noctis gazed into the face he knew so well, cheeks slightly flushed, the lips that had smiled in praise or turned downward in disapproval. These same lips now parted. It was an invitation he could not refuse. 

The kiss was tender, meant to convey his regret at how he’d suffered. At what awaited them. Ignis moaned softly, the sound echoing a longing Noctis shared. Felt his body respond to the slow crawl Ignis’s fingers made along the small of his back. Ignis’s tongue slipped past his teeth to meet his. He shuddered as desire unfurled within him. The fire of his arm paled in comparison to what burned in him now. Noctis surrendered to the emotion.

They held each other close, Noctis grinding his pelvis against Ignis as their kiss intensified. Noctis slipped a hand between their bodies, fingers skimming along the hem of Ignis’s shirt, thankful for its lack of buttons. Given the way his hand trembled, he’d most likely tear the buttons free. 

As Noctis pushed the material up, gradually exposing the smooth skin of Ignis’s belly, Ignis’s hands slid down Noctis’s thighs in a way that made him want to rip his own pants off. He’d long stopped wondering if Ignis knew the magic his touch created. Ignis demonstrated not just a working knowledge, but a not so subtle enjoyment of using it to his advantage. The times he brought Noctis to climax by caressing him through his pants were too numerous to count. As if aware of his thoughts, Ignis palmed the bulge in Noctis’s pants, where he proceeded with slow, steady caresses. Noctis groaned against his lips. Tiny waves of pleasure swept over him. The stimulation was almost too much. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d come right there.

Noctis released Ignis’s mouth to trail slow kisses along his jaw. By now, he’d pushed Ignis’s shirt past his chest. A nudge encouraged Ignis to lift his arms, allowing for Noctis to pull it over his head. He fanned his hands over Ignis’s chest, tracing the contours of muscle with his fingertips. Gods, he was so beautiful. Noctis remembered all those years he fantasized about Ignis, all the times he had to force his eyes- and thoughts- elsewhere whenever they camped or shared a hotel room. The mornings were the worst. He endured Prompto’s teasing (it wasn’t as if his friend was immune to morning wood, either), played it off as nothing. All the while refusing to make eye contact with Ignis. 

And now Ignis looked in his direction, face flushed, lips moist from his kisses. Silently asking for his touch. 

Noctis bent over, breath hot against Ignis’s neck, before he resumed kissing along its length. Ignis wrapped his arms around Noctis, pulling him closer, closer, his body arching in response to Noctis gradually working his way down. He ran his tongue along the inside of his collarbone while the fingers of one hand worked at his nipples, which stiffened at his touch. His other hand glided along Ignis’s belly, stopping just above his pants. Conscious of Ignis’s sharp intakes of breath, Noctis smiled, inched his fingers past the waistband. The feel of how hard Ignis was increased Noctis’s desire. His cock fairly strained against his pants. Suppressed the want to free it, let Ignis work his magic until Noctis saw stars. For now, Noctis wanted to show Ignis a glimpse of heaven while he still could.

Gently urging Ignis to release him, Noctis trailed soft kisses down his chest. Delighted in the feel of Ignis’s hands caressing his back, his shoulders, before twining his fingers into Noctis’s hair. Noctis, now poised over Ignis’s erection, pressed his cheek to it, felt the head slick with pre-come through his pants. The heady scent of his arousal washed over him. Noctis’s eyes fluttered closed as he breathed in deep. Then, unable to deny Ignis’s need or his own any longer, he undid Ignis’s pants and tugged them down his hips. Ignis, his hands gripping Noctis’s head, lifted his body to allow Noctis to pull the pants past his thighs. Next, he removed the boxer briefs, rolling down the waistband slowly. Ignis made a small, demanding sound, which then turned into a low groan when Noctis closed his mouth over the head of his cock. He teased his tongue along the slit, tasted the salty tang of his pre-come. Ignis murmured his name. It was all the encouragement Noctis needed.

His hand worked the shaft and his tongue slid around and alongside the head. The intensity of the fingers in his hair told of Ignis’s pleasure, as did the movement of his hips. Every time Ignis thrust into Noctis’s mouth, the tip of his head grazing the back of his throat, he grew more aroused. Imagining Ignis sheathed inside him made him groan, as if Ignis sucked and teased his length and not the other way around. 

“Noct…” Ignis’s husky voice brought him back to himself. He lifted his gaze. Low-lidded eyes telegraphed his desire. 

Reflexively, Noctis sought the bedside table, the condoms and lube within the top drawer. At realizing they weren’t at home, Noctis experienced pain entirely different from any injury. He wanted Ignis inside him so _badly_.

Daring not to hope, Noctis asked, “Iggy…is there…?”

Ignis rolled onto his side, his hand vanishing behind the pillow. When he produced what they needed, Noctis didn’t care how or where he got it. His excitement rekindled, he stretched atop Ignis, their lips meeting in a frenzied kiss that spoke of exactly what they wanted. 

When they parted, Noctis sat up and unbuckled his pants. As he shoved them down his thighs, Ignis removed the rest of his clothing, set them aside, and moved so he leaned against the headboard. He felt for one of the condoms and tore it open. Noctis took a moment to enjoy the sight of Ignis rolling the condom over his glistening cock. Refused to acknowledge the pang of sorrow at knowing he might not witness it again.

The sad thoughts fled his mind when Ignis beckoned him. As Noctis drew closer, Ignis pulled him to his chest, his kiss demonstrating an eagerness bordering on desperation. He broke away to apply lube first to the condom, then his fingertips. Noctis, dizzy from their kiss, smiled at understanding Ignis’s intention. Leaning forward, he circled his arms around Ignis’s shoulders. Keeping Noctis close with one arm, Ignis slid his other hand along the curve of his bottom. Nipped at Noctis’s ear with his teeth, sending shivers along his spine, as his fingers probed Noctis’s entrance. 

Noctis’s eyes fluttered closed as Ignis slid a finger inside him, followed by another, a third, and a fourth a few moments after that. He held fast to him, slowly lifting his hips and sinking back down onto his fingers. Ignis’s voice was a husky rasp in his ear, his body trembling from want. Noctis moaned his name. Ignis pulled his fingers away, allowing Noctis to rise to his knees above Ignis’s cock. When he sank onto him, he shuddered with desire. Ignis rested his hands on Noctis’s waist, tilted his head back to meet his kiss. Noctis released him, braced his hands on the headboard, and started moving. The first few thrusts were enough to send him to the edge, but he forced himself to keep a slower pace. He wanted the experience branded on his memory, on Ignis’s memory. 

Ignis held firmly to his waist, his heavy breathing matching Noctis’s. He caressed Ignis’s face, running his thumb along those lips. Felt his pleasure mounting when Ignis took his thumb into his mouth. Noctis gazed down at him, again recalling the intense fantasies of his adolescence. Started moaning when Ignis added another finger into his mouth. Had he been capable of speech, he would have accused Ignis of doing it on purpose. Instead, he increased his pace, nearly delirious with the pleasure of Ignis inside him and the absolute _ecstasy_ of Ignis’s expression. Ignis thrust up into him, waves of pleasure hitting Noctis with such intensity, his vision spotted and his breath caught in his throat. When he did it again, he threw his head back and cried out. His fingers dug into the headboard, clenched around the inside of Ignis’s mouth. 

Ignis hooked his arms under Noctis’s, keeping him firmly locked against him. They bucked against one another, breathing hard, Ignis tensing beneath him, Noctis’s pleasure mounting. He was close, so damn close… 

But then Ignis gripped Noctis’s ass, fingers digging into the skin and bringing Noctis back from the brink. He stared down into Ignis’s face. Took in the strands of hair clinging to his brow, lips reddened from the intensity of their kisses. 

Ignis ran his fingers down the length of Noctis’s cheek. He spoke in a breathy voice filled with desire. 

“I need to feel you inside me, Noct.” 

Need, not want. _Need._

Noctis, not about to deny Ignis anything, especially not now, leaned in to kiss him. He lifted himself off his cock and slid back to allow Ignis room to move. Once he disposed of the condom and lay down, Noctis took the other condom package, tore it open, and rolled it over himself. He inserted himself between Ignis’s thighs, making sure to touch his knees to signal Ignis to lift his hips. As he did, Noctis lubed the condom, then his fingers. He readied him using Ignis’s technique, his eyes never leaving his husband’s face as he reacted to each additional finger. At his signal, Noctis withdrew his fingers and lined himself up with him. When he eased himself inside, it didn’t matter how many times he’d done this, it always, _always_ felt so damn good. And when a look of pure joy crossed Ignis’s features, it went right to Noctis’s heart. 

He took it slow, allowing for Ignis’s body to accommodate him. As he moved, sinking just a bit deeper each time, he absorbed the sight of Ignis spread before him, his hands curling into the sheets, his head turned on the pillow, eyes closed. The fall of his hair over his brow. The flash of his throat as he breathed. Noctis’s heart swelled with love and appreciation for this man beyond the physical. Ignis was in his blood and bones, as surely as he was in Ignis’s. What would become of him at their eventual parting? Gladio and Prompto had one another, but Ignis would be alone. Tears pricked his eyes. Why did it have to be this way?

Overcome by the want to hold him close, Noctis leaned over. His sudden shift caused Ignis to arch against him, a low moan passing his lips. He brought his knees closer to his chest, his hands slid along Noctis’s shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as he increased his thrusts. Noctis grunted from the effort, losing himself in the feel of Ignis around him, his body against his. Ignis’s grip tightened, his body tensing in anticipation of his release. He laid a hand against Noctis’s cheek, fingers splayed, preparing to ‘see’ Noctis’s reaction when he came. The intensity of his movements, combined with the lusty sounds Ignis made, sent Noctis over the edge. 

Waves of pleasure overwhelmed him, forcing a loud cry that resolved into Ignis’s name. As he shuddered above him, he felt as much as heard Ignis’s climax. When his low moans died away, Ignis took Noctis by the back of the head and brought him to his level, kissing him so thoroughly Noctis saw stars for the third time that night.

They drifted apart slowly, first their lips, then Noctis withdrew from Ignis’s body and disposed of the condom. Noctis caressed the left side of Ignis’s face. Sweat dampened his fingertips. Ignis leaned into his touch, softening Noctis’s expression and sending a rush of warmth through him. A chill emerged at the tail end, for the hand Ignis nuzzled so lovingly was black as pitch. Noctis went to pull away, but Ignis kept it in place. His eye glanced in Noctis’s direction. The light allowed him to see the tears brimming there.

Noctis swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Ignis. I…”

Ignis placed his fingers on Noctis’s lips. The word ‘goodbye’ hung between them, threatened the afterglow of their lovemaking. Heavy sorrow existed in Ignis’s expression, but also acceptance. It was the latter that pierced Noctis’s heart. 

Without a word, he lay his head on Ignis’s chest. Felt his heartbeat gently thudding beneath his cheek. The sound distracted him from the twinges of pain in his right arm. 

Ignis wrapped him up, pressed a kiss to the top of Noctis’s head. Noctis exhaled, then closed his eyes. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. If he was to die tonight, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

***

Ignis didn’t sleep that night. He lay back with Noctis in his arms, listening to his slow, steady breathing. Each inhalation, each exhalation, revealed death had not come. That Noctis, despite the severity of his disease, held onto life as surely as Ignis held him to his chest. Allowed them a little more time together. Allowed Ignis to mentally prepare himself for what he had to do.

His eye slid closed, but not before a tear trailed down his cheek. Since accepting Stella’s request to stay, he’d divided his time between exploring the camp and learning more about the Herald. Told himself it was information he needed, when in truth it was just a distraction. A way for him to cope with a situation in which he had no control over. It flustered him to his core, though part of him felt he should be accustomed to it. After all, he’d had years to resign himself to Noctis’s fate as Chosen King. Easy to set aside any personal despair when something as grand as the fate of Eos dwarfed all. Not so when the only personal stake Ignis had now was losing Noctis. 

He touched Noctis’s face, distressed at the heat emanating from his skin. He hadn’t noticed it while they made love, but now it seemed greater than before. Hotter. The doctor had warned him of spikes in body temperature. Claimed it was one of the defining characteristics of the final stages of daemon transformation. Ignis knew this to be true, for he’d spoken to dozens of survivors during his time with the Herald. The victims gave off incredible waves of heat, not unlike a dying star, before going cold. This typically began at the site of the infection.

Ignis sensed the temperature variance between Noctis’s chest and his right arm. He laid a hand over it, fingertips resting atop the scars that made up the Astral marks. Gave a low sound at the slick, cool feel of the skin. Reptilian. Alien. Rather than recoil, Ignis kept his hand on it, as if the heat of his body would somehow transfer to Noctis. Keep the inevitable at bay just a little longer.

The doctor’s voice emerged from the recesses of memory.

_“I understand this may be difficult for you,” he said, sympathy evident in his tones. “The final stages bring great pain. I am leaving a potion here. It will ensure his end is merciful. I strongly urge you to consider using it.”_

Ignis hadn’t responded to the doctor, too distracted by the joy and relief over Noctis’s safe arrival. The peace gained in the wake of their lovemaking was fleeting. Even now, Ignis felt despair crowding his heart. He glanced toward the bedside table, for the doctor told him where he left the potion. Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. No matter how strong or determined Ignis knew himself to be, his hand would falter at the end. He’d sooner run a dagger through his own heart. But finding peace through sleep? It was exactly how Noctis would prefer to meet his end. 

The decision made, Ignis felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. He leaned his cheek against the top of Noctis’s head, a deep sigh passing his lips. Be it today, tomorrow, or the next day, Ignis needed to prepare himself. His world was on the verge of becoming darker. Colder. Emptier. 

He huddled close to Noctis, determined to maintain the warmth of his body against his for as long as possible. His eye drifted closed, and sleep took him.

When Ignis woke some hours later, the moment of fear following him to awareness vanished at the soft sound of Noctis’s breathing. He sighed his relief. After pressing a lingering kiss to his brow, Ignis eased himself out of bed. He slipped his pillow between Noctis’s arms, knew he’d draw it close in Ignis’s absence. A sad smile touched his lips. The need to cuddle something called back to the small, frightened boy suffering from recurring nightmares. He wondered if Noctis realized he still needed the comfort. Ignis combed his fingers through Noctis’s hair, taking note of its matted feel. After days on the road, Ignis knew Noctis would appreciate a hot bath. Ignis, who typically bathed in the mornings, decided to wait until Noctis woke. There might not be many other chances for them to bathe together.

Ignis rose from the bed and approached the wardrobe. As the room was the first he’d explored, he had its layout memorized. However, once he pulled on clothing, he nearly tripped over a small bag on his way to the bathroom. Curious, Ignis went to a knee and ran his hand over the exterior. Ah. One of the bags from their home in Lestallum. Ignis sometimes used them to carry groceries. He pulled it open to inspect the contents. The unmistakable scent of travel-weary clothing rose from the interior, though the undertone of blood troubled him more. Ignis emptied the bag, setting the dirty clothing aside for washing. The refugees had access to laundry facilities, as well as showers, a mess hall, and entertainment. For all the mystery surrounding Stella Nox Fleuret, her dedication to the people’s comfort was admirable. He was indebted to her, too.

Ignis separated the clothes, then dragged the few pairs of pants to him. Long habit had him inspect the pockets for items. When he came across a washcloth, Ignis pulled it free without much thought. The sharp, metallic echo of something striking the floor checked his movements.

Turning his head toward the sound, Ignis felt along the floor. His fingers grazed the edge of a circular object he identified as a ring. However, the distinct engravings, combined with the tingling sensation associated with a powerful, magical object, caused Ignis to freeze.

The Ring of the Lucii. 

Did Noctis know…?

The echo of approaching footsteps alerted him. Swift, heavy. MTs.

Tensing, he pocketed the ring, flinched as its power threatened to bring painful memories to the fore, and hurried to the bed. Sitting down, he laid a hand on Noctis’s bare shoulder, spoke in a low, urgent voice.

“Noct, wake up. Quickly.”

Noctis, long past the maneuverings needed to drag him from sleep, awakened at the sound of Ignis’s voice. He sensed his gaze on him, pictured his furrowed brow.

“Ignis? What is it?”

Before he could answer, someone opened the door. Instinctively, Ignis turned his body toward the doorway, one arm outstretched in a protective manner. He sensed Noctis peering past his shoulder. Heard him mutter a low curse. 

The heavy footsteps entered the room, stopped a few paces from the bed. The scent of old blood and machinery filled the air.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum. Ignis Scientia Caelum,” the MT said, its distorted voice ringing painfully in Ignis’s ears. “Lady Stella Nox Fleuret will see you both immediately.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Ignis meet with Stella, whose true purpose carries a price neither anticipated.

**Chapter Nine**

Noctis stared at the MT, tall, imposing, its armored form making him feel every inch of his nakedness beneath the covers. Stella Nox Fleuret. His breath caught in his throat. The woman in white, her face and hair so like Luna’s- how could it be possible?

Ignis, clearly irritated at the unexpected interruption, addressed the MT. “I presume the lady will allow us time to prepare ourselves,” he said in brisk tones. Fewer people could speak so civilly yet lace words with so much venom. “Considering how she did not inform us of if, or when, we were expected.”

The MT did not respond. Rather, it came to attention as footsteps echoed behind it. A second MT appeared, its blue and white armor gleaming in comparison to the others surrounding it. Noctis frowned. Memory of the attack on their home and witnessing Ignis’s capture ignited his anger. His arm twitched in response. His fingers dug into the edge of the bed, as if poising himself to strike. Ignis, demonstrating uncanny awareness of Noctis’s intentions, held his other arm out to restrain him. Noctis sent him a confused glance. What was going on?

The MT signaled to one of the others. A bundle of folded and pressed clothing passed between them. Noctis’s eyes widened. He knew those clothes. Ignis had packed them away, mementos of a past they no longer had association with. 

He trembled with renewed anger. “So, it _was_ you,” he said, alerting Ignis thanks to his sharp tone of voice. He directed his words to Ignis, though his eyes remained fixed on the MT. “They tore our home apart. It’s got your Kingsglaive garb and my clothing from- from that night,” he said, shame of his failure cutting into his rage. Heat from his arm spread to his chest. He breathed hard, as if he’d run uphill. 

Rather than demonstrate surprise, Ignis appeared troubled. He turned his face toward the MT. “Acolyte,” he said. “Does Lady Stella intend to greet us in our former capacity?”

Noctis stared. If he didn’t know Ignis so well, he’d swear he heard weary resignation in his voice. 

The MT- Acolyte- laid the clothing on the edge of the bed and stepped back. Its gaze drifted to Noctis. The distinctly human eyes brought Noctis up short. Was this Acolyte like Prompto? 

As if understanding his confusion, the Acolyte gave an almost imperceptible nod. It did nothing to alleviate the sudden sense of foreboding creeping into his heart. He laid his fingers on the inside of Ignis’s arm, fearing he’d find him as cold as the ice chilling Noctis’s blood. Warmth from their contact seeped into Noctis’s hands. He held fast to the feeling. 

“The Lady grants you one hour,” the Acolyte said. With that, it gestured for the others to depart. The group left as loudly as they came, the echo of their footsteps lingering long after the door closed.

Noctis wasted no time.

“What the hell’s going on, Ignis?” he asked as Ignis approached the door. He turned the lock with a determined gesture. Tension was in every line of him. Noctis stood, keeping the sheet at his waist with one hand. “Who’s this Stella Nox Fleuret?”

Ignis ventured to the end of the bed. He lay a hand on their pressed and folded clothes, his expression briefly turning reverent. As if he recalled the night they wore them, or the night he put them away. Then he turned a troubled gaze Noctis’s way. 

“The woman behind the Herald of the Dawn. She demonstrates power similar to Lady Lunafreya.” 

The comparison brought an image of the young woman he’d befriended back in Tenebrae. Noctis shook his head. “How can that be possible? There aren’t any Oracles left.” 

“True, but I can vouch for her power.” 

“How?”

Ignis bowed his head. His fingers curled over the clothing in response to his emotions. When he answered, it was in a low voice. “Her touch briefly restored my sight.”

For a moment, Noctis wasn’t sure he heard correctly. But, as he studied Ignis, tall body bent, head angled down, features drawn, the truth of his words hit him like a physical blow. Noctis went to his side, heedless of the sheet slipping from his fingers, the air brushing against his bare skin. Ignis turned at Noctis’s approach. At feeling Noctis’s hand on his arm, need and relief surfaced in his gaze. He then spoke of their first meeting, each word like a knife cutting into Noctis’s heart. Though the subject of Ignis’s sight never prevented them from reminiscing on the past, Noctis recalled an instance in bed some months prior. They lay face to face, Noctis on the cusp of sleep, when he felt soft fingers caress his cheek. Felt his chest ache at the whispered words.

_“Would that I could see your face but once more…”_

When Ignis’s story concluded, Noctis’s hand slid down the length of Ignis’s arm, hooked his fingers around his. Knowing Stella attempted to bribe Ignis in such a way stirred his anger. “She had no right to do that.” 

“Matters of right and wrong don’t seem to apply when it comes to what she wants,” Ignis said with a small frown. “Especially considering she seeks the Ring of the Lucii.”

Anger swiftly turned to surprise. “Is that all she wants?”

“It would seem so, yes.” Concern passed across his face. “Why did you bring it with you, Noct? Did she demand you ransom it for my freedom?”

Though Ignis’s assumption coincided with Noctis’s intention, he answered in the negative. “Prompto found it. He went back to the house to get some supplies while Gladio took care of me.”  
“He is in Lestallum?” Pleasant surprise warmed Ignis’s words. 

“Has been for almost the whole time we’ve been there,” Noctis said, then went into detail of the journey. He refrained from mentioning Iris’s death. The sensitivity of their own dwindling time together made it difficult for Noctis to express sorrow outside of his and Ignis’s. He hoped Iris forgave him the omission. 

When Noctis finished speaking, Ignis bowed his head. “I’m relieved he was there for you when I could not be,” he said, regret evident in his words. “Now that you are here, I worry about Stella’s intentions.” 

“You mean the Ring? She can have it.” 

Ignis’s brows lowered. “Noct, it’s not something we can just hand over. Its whole purpose is tied to the crystal, and—”

“The Ring is, but I’m not. _We’re_ not. Not anymore.” Noctis squeezed Ignis’s fingers. “You said she only wants the Ring, not us. If giving it away is what’ll get us out of here, I’m fine with it. Ignis,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion, not just at his husband’s name, but at what lay ahead. “I don’t want to die here.”

The plea from the heart visibly shook Ignis. His gaze drifted past Noctis for a split second, as if he saw something Noctis could not, before resignation settled over his features. Gently, he cradled Noctis’s face in his hands, leaned over to kiss him. A soft kiss, absent of ardor, but expressing years’ worth of tenderness, devotion, and love. A willingness to please, even if it went against his own judgment. It enveloped Noctis as surely as Ignis’s arms around him, allowing him to ignore the heat radiating off his skin. He tightened his hold on him. Prayed the infection wouldn’t worsen before they returned to Lestallum. 

When they parted, Noctis leaned his head against Ignis’s. His fingers traced the planes of his face, gently. Indulged in the moment, their closeness, his warm, familiar scent. Then Ignis suggested they ready themselves. Noctis only nodded. Time to meet this Stella Nox Fleuret.

While Noctis showered, Ignis laid out their clothing. As Ignis took his turn, Noctis stood at the mirror, a towel wrapped around his hips, as he unearthed a shaving kit from below the sink. He didn’t stop to think how Stella obtained these items. The brief glimpses he caught at first setting foot in the camp told him the Herald was clearly a well-organized outfit. Whatever her intentions with the Ring, he found himself impressed by the good turn she gave the afflicted. 

Noctis was finishing up when Ignis emerged from the shower. What followed next was as tender an interaction between them as passionate as the previous night’s lovemaking. 

After they each drew on underwear and undershirts, Ignis helped Noctis dress. In this, he was every inch his chamberlain, smoothing the creases from Noctis’s sleeves as Noctis buttoned the fine black shirt. Ignis straightened the folds of his collar, fingers brushing against Noctis’s neck and sending little chills down his spine. He gazed up into Ignis’s face, noted the emotion in his eye, the small, reminiscent smile on his lips. Noctis smiled too, remembering one afternoon where his refusal to cooperate with Ignis’s want to take his measurements left both aggravated. Then, Noctis mistook Ignis’s duty for nagging, which ultimately was a result of Noctis’s inability to process his feelings for his advisor. So much had changed. 

As Noctis secured the belt around his waist, Ignis took up the jacket. Noctis stepped into it, shrugged it into place at his shoulders. But when Ignis presented the cape and mantle, still bearing evidence of his battle against Ardyn, Noctis paused. At once, it represented his father, his destiny to his people, and his failure. Tears he couldn’t fight burned his eyes.

“Not that,” he said in a low rasp.

And Ignis, dear Ignis, acknowledged his wish with a silent nod. 

As he set it back on the bed, Noctis wiped at his eyes. Determined to put such thoughts from his mind, he went to Ignis’s side, taking the shirt from his hands. Ignis sent him a curious look before a small, appreciative smile touched his lips. Noctis, though not as practiced in the art of dressing as Ignis, nonetheless found comfort in it. Fulfillment. A twinge of pain cut into his heart. He wished he’d started doing it sooner. 

After Ignis donned the jacket and pocketed the Ring of the Lucii, they faced one another in silence. Noctis slipped his hands into Ignis’s, held them between their bodies. Felt the ring on Ignis’s finger. He had decided against the gloves, no doubt because he wished to feel as much as see Noctis during these moments. Noctis tightened his hold on him. They leaned toward one another, the action as instinctive as breathing, until a jolt of pain forced a small cry. Noctis grabbed at his right shoulder, which burned as hot as his arm suddenly no longer did. The implications turned his blood to ice. 

Ignis steadied him. The hand at his left shoulder trembled. “Hold on, Noct.”

Noctis closed his eyes, exhaled. “I’m so tired, Ignis,” he whispered, shivering in his arms. “So tired…”

Ignis gathered him closer. “I know.” Helplessness and sympathy thickened his voice. “We’ll be home soon. I promise you.”

Noctis smiled weakly, pressed himself to Ignis’s chest.

The sound of heavy footsteps outside the door pulled them apart. A flash of disappointment mixed with annoyance passed across Ignis’s face before he schooled his features. He approached the doors in a few swift strides, as if he could clearly see the path. Noctis rubbed at his shoulder, wincing at the fresh burst of pain, and went after Ignis. 

As soon as he unlocked the door, he stepped back, taking his place beside Noctis. The doors swung open, admitting four MTs headed by the Acolyte. As the MTs flanked them, Noctis refrained from reacting to their proximity. He met the Acolyte’s oddly human eyes, waiting.

The Acolyte raked its gaze over them, as if gauging their readiness, before indicating they follow. Noctis slipped his arm into Ignis’s as they started walking. Neither spoke while the Acolyte led them down the hall. Doorways stood open to his right, revealing sitting rooms, a library, an infirmary, and living quarters. A larger room showed several people kneeling in front of tokens representing the Astrals, heads bowed in prayer. Yet another room, darkened and emitting a silence altogether different from the chapel, chilled Noctis to his core. For here, he heard the subdued murmurs of those in mourning. A glance at Ignis revealed he, too, heard it. Only the tightening of his lips indicated its impact.

They left the suite of rooms behind, emerging into a chamber Noctis immediately recognized as the loading bay for an Imperial craft. Fixtures along the wall, which once served as holding stations for inert MTs, now acted as storage stations for bedding, clothes, and other necessities. As they neared a deployed loading ramp, cool air brought some relief from the overwhelming scent of their MT escorts. 

Once outside, the Acolyte guided them across the middle of the camp. The number of people milling about concerned Noctis. Starscourge appeared to be ravaging the Fallgrove. A twinge of pain made him flinch. Though he didn’t lose his footing, Ignis’s hand was already on his arm, steadying him. As he’d always done throughout their lives.

Noctis squeezed Ignis’s hand in a silent show of appreciation before addressing their escort. “Where’s she meeting us?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the name, not without conjuring images of his departed friend.

The Acolyte did not answer straightaway. It signaled to the MTs at their backs. They closed in, forcing Noctis and Ignis into a smaller circle between them. The camp entrance rose ahead of them, its gates closed to the outside world. The sentries posted there came to attention. Each operated a panel on their side of the gate. The doors shuddered, then pulled apart. Beyond, Noctis glimpsed trees, rocks, and, in the distance, the blue sigils marking Oathe Haven. 

The Acolyte led the way through the gates. “The Lady awaits you at Costlemark Tower,” it said, indifferent to the sharp gasps Noctis and Ignis gave. 

“Any particular reason?” Ignis asked.

“Because she has chosen to meet you there,” the Acolyte answered. Its hand went to its side, fingers closing around the hilt of a sword. Noctis heard the other MTs arm themselves. The Acolyte glanced back at them. “Remain in the circle. For there are—”

Creaking groans echoed in the air. Noctis staggered as a wave of energy slammed into him. Pain flooded his senses. Terrible visions soon followed. He pressed his hand to his temple and groaned low in his throat. The world started to dim. Ahead, the Acolyte appeared as a blurred silhouette, the white of its armor taking on a red hue as Red Giants closed in on their location. 

Ignis circled him with strong, supportive arms. “We have to return to the camp,” he said, urgency thickening his words. “I will not have you endanger Noctis when he is so vulnerable.” 

The Acolyte flashed its sword. “Remain in the circle,” it said, and charged the Red Giant.

Ignis called after it, his words drowned out by a second Red Giant’s manifestation. Noctis, overcome by another burst of pain, dropped to his hands and knees, then fell onto his side. Seconds later, Ignis had gathered him to his chest, arms coiled around his shoulders, upper body bent over him. Noctis’s line of sight was reduced to the space past Ignis’s arm. He watched the Acolyte engage the Red Giants, conscious of the increased burning in his shoulder and the side of his neck. His right arm, however, felt cold, disconnected. He registered its weight, but nothing else. Panic hovered at the edges of his mind. He turned his face toward Ignis, desperate for relief. 

Other MTs joined the fray. The circle around them went from four to two in seemingly no time at all. The Acolyte shouted orders for the remaining two to press on to Costlemark. At this, Ignis urged Noctis to stand. Noctis slung the dead weight of his right arm around Ignis’s shoulders. Gathered his legs beneath him and stood as Ignis did. His faltering steps forced Ignis to practically drag him along. 

Noctis witnessed their trek through blurred eyes. The forest had taken on a distorted appearance, trees cutting across one another like crossed swords, the ground rising beneath him only to make him feel as if he dangled over a cliff the next. Even Costlemark Tower, identified by the glow of its red exterior, appeared nightmarish. 

The MTs were efficient in cutting a pathway to the entrance. But then a large sword swept them aside. They tumbled into the darkness, a flurry of limbs and streaking red energy. Ignis skidded to a halt, a low curse passing his lips. Noctis lifted his head, felt fear close its hand around his throat. An Iron Giant lumbered toward them, flanked by smaller daemons. Each step shook the ground, threatening to knock both over. Ignis took a step back. His grip on Noctis’s arm tightened to the point he felt pain. 

But then a woman dressed in black appeared between them and the Iron Giant, moving with an unhurried grace that would have been puzzling if not for what happened next. 

The woman lifted a finger. The Iron Giant’s blade grazed the tip of it. Everything went still, even the wind. Then the Giant doubled back, hand grasping its chest. The sword dropped from its hand, it went to a knee, and sank into the ground. The other daemons, demonstrating unusual awareness to the situation, withdrew into the shadows. The persistent pain receded, as did the visions. Noctis went limp with relief. 

She turned to face the pair. Noctis took in the pale face, devoid of expression, the timeless wisdom in her eyes. The sort no mortal could possess. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Could it be…? 

“Who’s there?” Ignis demanded. 

Noctis spoke in a low rasp. “Iggy, it’s Gentiana.”

Surprise briefly entered Ignis’s eyes before his features hardened. He turned his face to her. “I had believed you ceded your support,” he said, suspicion edging his words. Noctis shared the sentiment. After he’d fallen in Insomnia, Gentiana had appeared before Ignis. Told him, in so many words, how the Astrals retracted the Covenant Luna died to bring into effect. That Noctis was no longer worthy of their blessing. To see her here, now, raised a lot of questions. 

Gentiana studied them in silence. Something about her lack of response troubled Noctis. It was almost as if she didn’t understand what Ignis referred to. 

Displeasure entered her gaze. She lifted her chin. “Your words are curt. However, I am not the one whom they are for.” She turned away, her dark hair rippling down her back. “Come,” she said, striding past the scattered ruins surroundings the entrance to Costlemark. “Lady Stella, and your fate, await you inside.”

The woman patiently made her way up the broken stairwell leading to the entrance, the hem of her black gown flaring with each step. Noctis, no longer needing to rely on Ignis to help him walk, nonetheless kept close. Their steps, breathing, even the sway of their arms as they walked, were synchronized. Noctis looked up at the towering structure, recalling times past when he and the others ventured into its recesses. Then, the option of leaving always remained open. As Noctis reached the landing, Ignis right beside him, he couldn’t shake the sense only one of them would be leaving. He put the thought from him. 

As they descended for the door, the strong scent of damp earth, stone, and mold thickened the air. The temperature dropped several degrees. Ignis shivered. Noctis acknowledged the chill air, yet felt disassociated from it. Much like his right arm from the rest of his body. 

The descent continued, down stairwells, steep inclines, across a fractured bridge, until they reached a large chamber. Noctis kept his eye on the woman who looked and acted so much like Gentiana. His mind reeled. Was she an Astral he didn’t know about? He thought about how she dispatched the Iron Giant. No one outside an Astral had that kind of power. 

A new thought occurred to him, sending his pulse racing. If this woman was truly an Astral like Gentiana, then Lady Stella— 

Ignis’s hand at his shoulder stilled his thoughts. He glanced up at his former chamberlain. Ignis seemed to be watching her, who now stood in front of the wall. A frown creased his brow.  
Noctis recognized the look. He’d seen it dozens of times whenever they prepared to embark into dangerous territory.

“We must tread lightly here,” he said. “We have little understanding of the nuances involved in Lady Stella’s intentions outside the Ring.”

“Right. We’ll hear her out,” Noctis replied. His gaze drifted to the woman. She stood with her eyes closed, head bowed. She seemed to be in communion with someone. “What do you make of her?”

Ignis’s frown deepened. “She is undoubtedly an Astral, or some other powerful being. It seems she is in service to Lady Stella, which could put her in the same capacity as Gentiana.”

“That’s what I was thinking. You still got it,” he said, making sure Ignis heard the smile in his voice.

Rather than smile, Ignis shook his head. “I must apologize to you, Noct. I had heard of the Herald of the Dawn prior to our interactions. Perhaps if I’d known more about their intent, I…” He trailed off and sighed. 

Noctis twined his fingers with Ignis’s. The distress in his face went beyond mere oversight. “It’s _not_ your fault, Iggy. None of it.”

Ignis bowed his head. “You are right. We are here now. We must act accordingly.”

“Then we’ll get the hell out of here,” Noctis said, his heart warming when Ignis’s smile hinted at his appreciation for the comment. “Never did much like it. Treasure’s already gone.”

Ignis’s expression became drawn. “Mm. Let us hope no traps remain.” 

Noctis glanced back at the dark-haired woman. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s hope not.”

The woman, having concluded what looked to be an internal conversation, turned toward the two men. “Before I bring you to Lady Stella, I must know if you have the Ring of the Lucii. We cannot proceed without it.”

Ignis slipped his hand into his pocket. Hesitated. Noctis murmured encouragement. Ignis’s lips tightened, then he withdrew the ring. It gleamed on the palm of his glove. The sight of it, combined with the energy it gave off, forced Noctis’s gaze elsewhere. Specifically, to the woman. Satisfaction crossed her features.

“Now that Lady Stella fulfilled her part of the bargain, so too will you fulfill yours.” She gestured to the wall. A circle of light manifested on its surface, swirling energies coalescing into what looked to be a mirror. “Follow me,” she said, and stepped through. The surface rippled at her passage.

Noctis stared. He’d never seen such a thing before. 

There was no choice but to go through.

“What’s happening, Noct?” Ignis asked. “I cannot hear her anymore.”

Noctis didn’t answer. Taking Ignis’s hand in his, Noctis stepped toward the wall. His reflection walked toward him, showing a pale face crowned by mussed dark hair, shadowed eyes, and black markings on his neck. But when he glimpsed red eyes, accompanied by a long, drawn out smile that flashed white against the black of his skin, Noctis didn’t flinch. He stared at what could very well be his daemonic self and swore, _I won’t become you._ Then he stepped through, seemingly into himself, Ignis at his side, and emerged into another room. 

The transition was as simple as if he crossed from the living room to the kitchen back home. Ignis glanced about, his features taut. Then he drew in a sharp breath. Noctis, also having recognized the layout of the room they now stood in, felt as if the ground crumbled beneath his feet.

For rising above them, bordered by a pair of curved staircases and overseen by a hollowed, darkened crystal, was his father’s throne. _His_ throne. Breathing hard, Noctis directed his gaze to the first landing, where the woman in white stood. Her skin and hair shimmered like moonlight on water, matching the silver scythe in her hand. The breeze swirling in the room from the gaping hole in the wall tugged at the folds of her gown. An aura of power surrounded her, making her appear otherworldly. She was both beautiful and ferocious. 

The dark-haired woman emerged from behind them. She ascended to the third step, turned, and extended an arm. 

“Lady Stella Nox Fleuret,” she said.

Noctis’s heart pounded as he stared up at her. Her resemblance to Luna dredged up old feelings of guilt, but the eyes measuring him glinted like stone. There was no familiarity in her gaze. Only purpose. He knew the look well, for it was the same one he wore when he set out on the final leg of his journey. To find himself back home under such circumstances, with his right arm lost to Starscourge and a keen awareness of his own mortality, shook him to the core. 

Lady Stella lifted her chin. “Have you the Ring?”

Ignis stepped forward. “Before we discuss the Ring,” he said, his voice ringing with authority. “I insist you reveal your purpose here. You claim you are of the Oracle bloodline, that the gods awakened you. You have brought us to Insomnia; I can only assume you intend to use the Ring’s power in connection to the crystal, which only those of the Lucian line can access. Is your intention harmful, or am I to believe the Herald of the Dawn is as altruistic as you claim?” 

The dark-haired woman frowned, clearly displeased with Ignis’s tone. Lady Stella held up a hand. “You have demonstrated nothing but patience and consideration while in my care. You have earned the right to know.” She extended her hand. An object resembling a magic flask manifested above her palm. It flashed, casting the room in a brilliant glow. Noctis stared, unbelieving, as ghostly images danced overhead. Ignis turned his head toward her, brow furrowing. But then he gasped. 

“Noct,” he said, his voice trembling. “She’s manifested what appears to be images using magic.” 

“Yeah. How do you…?”

Ignis tilted his head back. The look on his face was of rapt fascination. “I can see it.” 

Astonished by her capabilities, Noctis glanced back at Lady Stella. Waited for her to tell her story.

She spoke in a clear, strong voice. “I served as Oracle to the royal family. When our Chosen King succumbed to the very darkness he sought to banish, I attempted to purge it from his body,” she said, and the scenes shifted in accordance to her explanations. Noctis gazed at the images in awestruck wonder. The similarity between her origins and Ardyn’s summoned unexpected pity. 

Lady Stella continued. “As he lay dying, I prayed the gods to grant me the power to save him. Etro appeared before me,” she said, indicating the dark-haired woman. “I exchanged my life to spare his, and ultimately our world, from the darkness. I took the darkness not just from him, but all those affected by it. Now I serve the gods as their failsafe. I go where it is darkest and restore the light.” This time, her eyes found Noctis. Visions appeared behind her, shimmering like heat mirages. “I have witnessed as many Ascensions as I have aided. I have seen Lucian kings treat their people fairly and justly. I have seen Lucian kings torn down by greed over the crystal’s power. I have seen Lucian kings fail to fulfill their destiny.” 

Noctis’s hands clenched at her words, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He had no defense for what he did.

Her focus shifted to Ignis. Admiration entered her gaze. “Through it all, I have watched the Scientia family faithfully serve their kings.” She descended the steps, slowly, the scythe in her hand catching the light from the images swirling around them. Ignis, sensing, perhaps seeing her approach, watched her close the distance between them. “Dedication, duty, love- this is your blood’s defining trait. And,” she said, sympathy now crossing her face. “It is why I must do this. I am sorry.” 

Something about the way she said that spurned Noctis into action. He advanced, intending to put himself in between Lady Stella and Ignis. She reacted with remarkable quickness. 

Turning, she thrust her scythe forward. The blade sank into Noctis’s chest as readily as a hand through water. His mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp. Though the wound was not deep, thick, black blood spilled over the pristine blade. Then the pain started. Far worse than anything he’d ever experienced. Ignis spun round, terror and panic stealing the color from his face. Noctis abruptly realized he _saw_ him, felt the strength leave his body. When Lady Stella withdrew the scythe, sending droplets of blood to the floor, Noctis collapsed. 

Ignis shouted his name, but Lady Stella blocked his attempt to reach him with her scythe. He shot her a furious glance. “What have you done?” The tortured sound of his voice matched the pain clawing at Noctis’s mind. “Is this how you grant peace?”

She set the scythe on the floor. Its echo reverberated through the chamber. Sadness shone in her eyes. “It was never my intention to bring this about, Ignis. You had the opportunity to give him peace. You did not. Now I have delivered Noctis Lucis Caelum from the darkness, as I intend to deliver this world from it.” She held out her hand. Energy coalesced in the center of her palm. In response, Ignis dropped to his knees, though it was clear he did not do so voluntarily. She then relieved him of the Ring. Etro appeared beside her, a gleaming dagger in her hand. 

Noctis, flashing back to the terrible moment Ardyn stabbed Luna, forced himself to his elbows. Slowly, he dragged himself toward Ignis. He clenched his teeth against the pain threatening to undo him. He knew, without knowing, Lady Stella accelerated his infection. Time slipped away from him with each breath. 

Lady Stella slipped the Ring onto the edge of the scythe, then elevated it overhead. A pale blue glow surrounded her, casting her body in its light. “Kings of Lucis,” she called. “Come to me.” She made a sweeping gesture with the scythe.

Brilliant flashes of light manifested from all corners of the room. Noctis watched in stricken silence as twelve figures composed of white and blue took their places around the throne. One hung back, a pale figure retaining much of its former humanity. Noctis felt tears burn his eyes, and pain tear at his heart.

_Dad._

One of the Kings loomed over Lady Stella. The interaction, reminiscent of when Leviathan answered Luna’s call, was no less awesome, or frightening. 

**Oracle,** came a booming voice. It shook the loose masonry from the crumbled wall. **Your blood is not of this realm. Our time has passed. Why do you summon the Kings?**

Lady Stella, like Luna before her, demonstrated incredible poise when responding to the spirit. “The gods have not forsaken you, Kings of Lucis. The inheritor to your legacy is here before you, ready to purge the darkness from this world. Give him your power so that he may fulfill his destiny.”

The glowing figures converged on her location. One by one, they turned their focus to Noctis. He felt at once very small and powerless, not unlike the instance he saw them shortly after his failure. 

But then they looked to Ignis.

Noctis’s eyes widened.

_“So, Iggy,” Prompto said, scratching the back of his head. “Now that you married Noct, what do we call you? Prince? Lord?”_

_Ignis cleared his throat. “Ah. Well, were this a more formal occasion, I would be considered King’s consort.”_

_Noctis, seated beside Ignis on the couch, chuckled lightly. “What Iggy means is what’s his is mine, and what’s mine is his. Right?”_

_The affection in Ignis’s response warmed Noctis’s heart. “I had given all that I am to you the day I accepted my post. Only now do I benefit from all that is yours.”_

**All have sacrificed for the King. So the King must sacrifice for all.**

As his ancestors’ intentions became clear, Noctis flung Ignis a desperate look. When he met Noctis’s gaze, he saw the same realization within his eyes. As Noctis searched Ignis’s face, he sensed the one word, that single, powerful word, transitioning from the unspoken to the spoken. A word that would take all the years they’d known each other, combine it with the ebb and flow of that life, bind it to their hearts, their minds, their _souls_ , leaving them forever a part of one another, even when apart. 

Yet neither had the opportunity to say it. For the Kings advanced on Ignis, whose finger gleamed from where the Ring of the Lucii appeared, weapons shining brilliant blue. 

Noctis screamed his name before everything went black. The sound of Ignis’s pained cries followed him down, down, into the darkness. Then, seemingly from within himself, he heard Ardyn’s mocking laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, everyone! Stella's purpose is revealed, and I couldn't be happier with how this chapter turned out. I thank you all for taking the time to read and comment!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Ignis's life in peril now that Stella has invoked the Ascension, Noctis fights to save him.

**Chapter Ten**

Noctis tumbled through the darkness. No matter how he turned, no matter what he reached for, his fingers grasped nothing. After a while, it seemed he could no longer grasp _himself._ As if by accelerating his infection, Lady Stella had effectively separated who he was from the daemon lurking within him. For he believed only a daemon capable of feeling such absolute emptiness, and all that was Noctis Lucis Caelum broke away.

His eyes fluttered, his arms relaxed at his sides. Death, long having kept a polite distance, now closed in, ready to take him at last. 

A glimmer caught his eye. Noctis turned his head toward it. The strength of its glow gradually intensified, holding fast to his sense of fading identity. A scene unfolded before him, sending a shock straight to Noctis’s previously sluggish heart. 

Insomnia, in full sunlight. The four of them striding purposely down the steps. King Regis calling out to them. Noctis watched, his eyes wet with tears as his father spoke to him. At the time, he hadn’t understood the cryptic nature of Regis’s words. Only later did Noctis realize what Regis was telling him. What the words ‘Chosen King’ truly implied. Drawn by the memory, he stepped closer, wanting to hear his father impart his wisdom once again. 

King Regis moved like an old man, his body taxed by the strength needed to maintain the barrier. He touched young Noctis’s shoulder, held his gaze.

“Wheresoever you should go, the line of Lucis goes with you. Walk tall, my son.”

Noctis watched himself walk away. Shrug at Prompto’s question about his father’s words, then climb into the car. Ignis went next, followed by Prompto and Gladio. The car drifted away from the steps. Noctis remembered he hadn’t looked back. 

As the car passed through the gateway, Noctis approached his father. A deep sense of regret and shame had Noctis sink to his knees. Regis did not look at him, or seem to acknowledge his presence, as Noctis gave voice to deep-seeded feelings not even Ignis knew of.

“I failed you, Dad.” His voice was whisper soft, heavy with emotion. “The people were counting on me, my friends were counting on me, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t the king they needed me to be.” The tears poured down his face now. “All I ever wanted was to be like you. But then I thought about everyone I lost, how losing them _hurt_ so much. I couldn’t do that to them. Couldn’t leave them- leave Ignis- again.” A sob caught in his throat. “Now he’s paying for my cowardice. I can’t do anything to stop it. Ignis,” he moaned, his name calling up countless instances of their time together. “Forgive me. Dad, Luna. Forgive me.”

Regis said nothing. He seemed as lifeless as the statues representing the entombed kings. Noctis, bearing the full weight of his shame, felt the silence deserved. He bowed his head, ready to accept whatever sentence Regis had in mind, even if it was to stay silent.

A heavy sigh, reminiscent of instances preceding a lecture. “Duty is in our very bones.” Regis spoke quietly. “It’s why the Amicitias lay down their lives for the king. Why the Scientias sacrifice all to the king. Why the Oracle initiated the Covenant despite knowing the cost. The gods were wise to choose our families to carry out their will. They knew our mettle. But they do not know our hearts.”

Noctis, who cringed under each damning word, now sent his father a puzzled look. 

Regis turned to him. Laid a hand on his shoulder. “I have long known your feelings for Ignis. Even when you didn’t understand them, I did. For you love with more than just your heart. It is with your whole being. It is a good trait for a king, and a greater one for a man.” His gaze softened. “Love of him introduced fear in your heart. Ardyn exploited it.”

Renewed shame forced Noctis’s eyes away. He flashed back to Ardyn’s smile after he dealt the blow that felled him. “I couldn’t get the image of Ignis and the others out of my mind. We’d only just reunited, and I…” His voice drifted off, the memories too much. Then he hung his head. “I don’t have any excuse. I’m why Stella Nox Fleuret is here. She’s finishing what I started.” 

Regis gave a small sigh. “True, her appearance signifies the gods’ readiness to bring the Lucis destiny full circle. They will use Ignis as their instrument.” His voice turned grim. “The Kings are giving him their power as we speak. Ignis’s heart is strong, but I fear he will die before he receives it all.”

Noctis paled. “Do you know what’ll happen if he…if he dies?” He shuddered at the image his question conjured. 

“I imagine Stella has a means to harness it.”

Noctis’s blood ran cold. “The dagger,” he said, half to himself. He pushed himself to his feet. “Dad, please. Help me. I have to save him. He was never meant to be the sacrifice. I was. This is _my_ duty.”

Regis searched his son’s face. A faint smile touched his lips. “Well spoken, my son. Can you feel it?” 

Noctis, about to question what his father meant, drew in a sharp breath. A gentle warmth gathered in his chest, traveled down the length of his arm. Hesitant, he concentrated on an item from his personal armory. 

A sword- Regis’s sword- manifested in his hand. His _right_ hand. The hilt gleamed like finely polished silver against the darkness of his palm.

The sight of it nearly stole Noctis’s breath. He flung a questioning look his father’s way. “The Starscourge…what Lady Stella did…”

“Lady Stella believes you beyond hope, beyond redemption. Her long service to the gods has altered her ability to understand how hearts work.” His gaze went past him, warmed. “Nor does she understand the connection others still share with you.”

At this, Noctis turned, only to take a faltering step back.

Instead of the steps leading to the street in front of the Citadel, he beheld rolling hills covered in sylleblossoms. Iris waved to him, a bright smile on her face and flowers in her arms. Ravus, having shed the armor that made him such an imposing figure, sent Noctis an approving nod. And, standing between them, her hair and gown flowing loose, was Luna. Her smile echoed of the strong affection she held for him. Noctis didn’t realize he approached her until they stood face to face. Didn’t realize she hugged him until he registered her arms around him. It was the embrace of a lifelong friend, and he wept silent tears.

He drew back to gaze down into her face. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps more so. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, so he just stood there, as tongue tied as when he realized how much Ignis meant to him.

“Dear Noctis,” she murmured, speaking his name with tenderness. “You believe yourself forsaken, yet you are not.” Luna then laid her hand on his cheek. “Stars of light and life,” she softly chanted. 

A pale glow surrounded her hand, as warm as the sunlight that was now just a memory for Noctis. A new sensation coursed through him, as rejuvenating as an elixir. It put tears into his eyes. 

She withdrew her hand. Her eyes glistened. “Go with my blessing, and know I will watch over you both, always.”

Noctis, too stricken by emotion to respond to her words, took her hand, pressed it to his chest. Luna smiled again, a sad smile, before she drifted away. Iris and Ravus also appeared to flicker out of sight. Noctis heard Iris’s request to tell Gladio she loved him and nodded, fresh tears forming in his eyes. Then they were gone. 

Turning to his father, he handed the sword over. Renewed purpose fueled his next words. “Dad,” he said, his gaze locking with the former king’s. “Trust in me.”

Regis accepted the sword without a word. He vanished, as did their surroundings.

Alone in an endless black void, Noctis lifted his face to the sky. A shimmering glow beckoned him. Then, extending his right arm, he called on his armory. At feeling the smooth handle of a dagger- _his_ dagger- Noctis launched himself toward the light.

***

Stella stood beside Etro, patiently waiting while the Kings of Lucis bestowed their power to Ignis. He bore each violent interaction with remarkable strength, but she sensed his heart weakening. The tenth King had just merged its essence with him. The result sent Ignis to the floor. As the eleventh advanced, Stella halted its progress with a gesture. It would do no good if he could not accept all thirteen. 

Ignis lay on his side, breathing hard, hand curled into a fist. Blood and sweat created a sheen on the fine planes of his face. The old wound over his left eye had ruptured, thick blood obscuring nearly the entire socket. Despite the pain he was in, still he turned his face toward where Noctis Lucis Caelum lay. His lips moved, perhaps on his name. 

“Offering reprieve will not make the exchange any easier,” Etro said. The dagger lay across her arm, its blade shining beneath the light of the hovering spirits.

“No, but it will allow the ritual to proceed as expected,” Stella said. “For only when the final King is merged can death occur.”

“And should he die before then?”

Stella watched Ignis struggle to his hands and knees. “He won’t. His devotion is such he will bleed himself dry before surrendering to death.”

Etro studied her in much the same way as when Stella watched the doctor labor over Noctis Lucis Caelum while Ignis sat in fretful silence. “Careful your fascination does not deter you from what must be done.”

“I know my duty well enough,” Stella said. She signaled the eleventh King. Its form struck Ignis so swiftly, he barely had time to cry out. His body curled in on itself, bloodied hands trembling. The Ring of the Lucii flashed as it absorbed the power. Though Stella knew she witnessed Ignis gathering his strength, she could not help but recall how it had been at her own ritual. How she’d endured agonies beyond imagining for her king. A swell of pity and remorse filled her heart. 

_It will be over for you soon, Ignis. Then you will be reunited with your King._

With that, she signaled the twelfth King. It was time to reclaim the world from darkness.

***

Noctis came back to himself with a loud, ragged gasp. Blood from his wound bubbled to the surface, bright red. Grunting, he pressed his hand to his chest, blood dampening his fingertips. Pain dulled his senses, but it was not the pain of Starscourge. He took a moment to celebrate feeling it- pain meant he lived- before he dragged himself to his knees. He took in the scene with a swift glance: Etro and Lady Stella, their backs to the throne, Ignis on his hands and knees before them. The other Kings had already vanished. He looked toward the ghostly figure of his father, who now hovered in front of Ignis, sword drawn.

With a desperate cry, Noctis lunged forward. Magical energies created a bright blue aura around him as he appeared in front of Ignis. Ignis, having just lifted his head, reacted to Noctis’s appearance with shock. Noctis slid his arms around his shoulders, pressed his brow to Ignis’s. Felt the blood and sweat clinging to his hair coat his skin. 

He smiled at Ignis’s tear-streaked face. “What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine,” Noctis whispered. Then he set his gaze on the Ring. “Kings of Lucis, come to me.”

It flashed in response to his command. Bands of energy swirled around them both, leaving Ignis’s body and crashing into Noctis’s. He held fast to Ignis at each successive impact. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood. Ignis shuddered against him.

The transfer of power ended. For a timeless time, there was only the ragged echo of their breathing, as if they’d engaged in passionate lovemaking. But when Regis plunged his sword into his back, Noctis smiled his relief, and dropped his head to his husband’s shoulder. This time, it wasn’t darkness swallowing him up.

It was light.

*** 

In all the centuries Stella had lived, in all the Ascensions she had witnessed, never had she encountered one quite like this. 

She had stood by, waiting to harness the full might of the Ring, when Noctis Lucis Caelum, somehow cured of Starscourge, drew on the crystal’s power. Now he lay atop Ignis’s chest, unmoving. Ignis did not move either. The exchange had rendered him unconscious, his hand draped over his king’s back. The sword, poised between Noctis Lucis Caelum’s shoulder blades, gleamed not with blood, but blue light. 

“My Lady,” Etro said. “It’s time.”

Stella approached the pair, lying almost in sleep if not for the sword pinning both to the floor. She slipped the Ring from Ignis’s finger, placed it on her scythe. A flash of blue light, and Stella was swept into a landscape with no beginning and no end. She descended into its heart, until at last she faced the cause of this world’s woes.

The man did not demonstrate surprise at her appearance. His smile was one of expectation. Gallantly, he doffed his hat to her. 

“My Lady,” he said. His voice was low, seductive. It was always the same, no matter how often she heard it. “And here I thought my actions wouldn’t summon you.” His eyes gleamed. “How kind of you to take up the mantle for poor Noct.” 

There was no denying the baiting quality of his voice. Stella’s grip on the scythe tightened. “Begone, daemon. I banish you to the darkness from whence you came.” She thrust the scythe forward. A surge of power so great exploded from the Ring, forcing her to hold the weapon with both hands. The Kings of Lucis burst forth in a dazzling array of light.

Upon seeing this, the man wearing the face of her King recoiled, allowing her to see the daemon within. She extended a hand. This world’s Oracle, along with several others, appeared in front of him, their smiles angelic, their hands glowing with soft yellow light. As contact lingered, his body contorted, the daemons inside him desperate to be free.

Stella brought the scythe down. The Kings of Lucis sped forward, crashing into his body with incredible force. When the last one vanished into the distance, all that existed of the daemonic host lay in ashes. The Ring of the Lucii, its purpose fulfilled, broke apart to be carried away by the light. All was still.

A large silhouette emerged from within the light. **Oracle,** it said, speaking a tongue as old as the universe itself. **You have done well to serve us; however, the Chosen King must be sacrificed, as decreed by the crystal.**

Stella looked in Bahamut’s distinctly human eyes, which were not so different from the souls who served her as Acolytes. “He has already sacrificed much in the name of the gods, as I have. I ask reprieve for him, and those dearest to him. Their calling is fulfilled, as is their oath to serve the crystal.”

The Draconian drifted closer to her. Appeared to be ruminating on her words. The other Astrals appeared then, more shadow than substance. 

**We have already ceded ties,** the Glacian said, her voice like the tinkling of icicles on a windy day. **He is no longer bound to us. The crystal should remain to our realm.**

**And we shall no longer be bound to their whims.** The Hydraean spoke with clear disdain.

The Archean grunted an agreement. The Fulgarian merely nodded.

**So be it,** Bahamut said. **We shall retreat from this world. Oracle, go in peace.**

The figures faded, one by one. As her surroundings blinked out of sight, Stella sensed the pull of another world in darkness. After sending Etro a message to meet her there, Stella turned her thoughts to the two men she left in the Citadel. She laid her fingers over her heart, which resonated with emotion from all she experienced while in their company.

Her eyes drifted closed. “Farewell, Ignis Scientia Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum,” she murmured. “May the dawn bring you both peace.”

***

When Noctis came to, it wasn’t due to the aching in his back, or the soreness in his chest. It was the feel of sunlight.

It had to be a dream. For only in dreams did he remember this sensation. But the feeling persisted and, daring not to hope, he opened his eyes.

The window showed him a sky so blue, so bright, it rendered him speechless. Noctis couldn’t look away, realizing only then how starved he was of the sight of it. 

A door clicked open, reluctantly drawing Noctis’s attention from the window. The sight of Prompto’s face peering around the edge of the door brought a small smile to his face.

“Hey,” he said.

At seeing he was awake, Prompto’s expression switched from amazement to relief, then crumpled. Tears streamed down his face as rushed to embrace Noctis.

“Ow, take it easy,” he complained, but it only made Prompto hug him harder. 

Prompto was laughing and crying at the same time. “I can’t believe. I really can’t believe it. When Gladio and I got to the Citadel, we thought you were—”

Mention of the Citadel brought everything rushing back. Noctis drew back from Prompto, his hands gripping his friend’s shoulders. “You found us there? Where’s Ignis?” He searched the small room, determined he was in a hospital ward in Lestallum. “Did you find him?”

Before Prompto could answer, Gladio entered the room. Though a few new scars marked his face and chest, the glow of his smile lit his eyes, easing some of the weariness Noctis had seen when he first heard of Iris’s death. 

“Don’t you worry about Iggy. They should be bringing him here any minute. You, on the other hand,” he said, coming to a stop at Noctis’s side and laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. “We thought you were dead.”

Noctis exchanged looks with his friends. “What do you mean?”

Prompto indicated the bandages covering the upper part of Noctis’s chest. “Doc said you looked like you’d been stabbed by something. Would have killed you if it hit your heart.”

“Iggy was pretty banged up, too.” Gladio frowned, concern evident in his eyes. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

Noctis spread his fingers over the bandages. Recalled the feel of his father’s sword as it passed through him. While his memory remained a bit fuzzy, he recounted what he could. His story left the other two staring at him in stricken silence. Gladio, at hearing of Noctis’s brief vision of Iris, blinked back tears. His hand found Prompto’s shoulder seemingly on its own. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, which Gladio smiled at.

Prompto spoke first. “Wow,” he said, though his look indicated the word didn’t properly sum up how he felt. “The Herald of the Dawn really had an Oracle? Must be why all the afflicted were cured before they vanished.”

Noctis blinked. “The Herald is gone?” 

“Yep. Not a trace of them anywhere. It’s like they disappeared when the sun came up,” Gladio said. “If you said she was only here to bring the dawn, figured they followed her wherever she went.” 

“Say, Noct,” Prompto said, his brow furrowing. “About what you said, with Lady Stella and the Kings of Lucis. Was that how it would have been if you…?”

“I think so,” Noctis said. He watched some clouds drift by. “Still hard to believe I’m here. I thought I’d die. I was ready this time. I mean, really ready.”

A contemplative look crossed Prompto’s face. “Well, maybe _how_ you felt was enough. Deities seem to like that sort of thing, you know, being mentally and emotionally ready. Like the Master of Blades.”

“Blade Master,” Gladio corrected fondly, and Prompto’s cheeks flushed. “And yeah. They’re usually big on it. Guessing you passed a test of mettle, Noct.”

Mettle. His father had used the same word. Noctis shook his head. “No. A test of heart.”

Approaching footsteps sounded from the hall. Prompto turned, brightened, then bounded for the door, as energetic as he’d been at twenty. When Gladio stepped away to give Noctis a clear view of the hall, he sent Noctis a knowing smile. Noctis barely saw it. He only had eyes for Ignis. 

Ignis, his shirt draped over his shoulders and a bandage across his eyes, steadily made his way down the hall, a cane in hand. Prompto met him halfway, bubbling over with warm greetings that brought a smile to Ignis’s face. Prompto then guided Ignis the rest of the way.

“Good to see you’re up and about,” Gladio said as Ignis crossed into the room. “Had us worried there. Well, some more than others.” He winked at Noctis, who made a face.

Ignis paused in front of Gladio. “It is a feeling I share as well.” He then offered his hand. When Gladio shook it, emotion passed across both their faces. In one gesture, whatever breach existed between them closed. Prompto took advantage of the moment and snapped a picture. His eyes glistened from tears.

Gladio needed a moment to gather his composure. He tapped Prompto’s shoulder. “Come on, Prom. Let’s give the royal couple some privacy.”

Prompto, who dragged a chair to the side of Noctis’s bed, gave him a quick nod. “Right. Oh, before I forget,” he said, smiling broadly. “Your mattress should arrive by the time you get home. It was the last thing I needed. Wait till you see the house. I’m glad I took those pictures. Didn’t want to mess up anything and—”

“Thank you, Prompto,” Ignis said, a faint smile touching his lips. “Your assistance is appreciated.”

Gladio chuckled. “We’ll have time to catch up later. Come on, I’m starving. Hospital food doesn’t cut it.” He waved to Noctis and Ignis, then took his leave.

Prompto followed, only to spin around and snap a quick picture, no doubt having timed it so he caught Noctis taking Ignis’s hand. Noctis sent him a look, Prompto gave a helpless shrug, and left. He closed the door behind him.

As Noctis gave a world-weary sigh, Ignis turned a warm smile his way. “Ever calm and carefree.”

“Wouldn’t be Prompto if he wasn’t.” 

“Indeed.” He laid his hand over Noctis’s, gave it a gentle squeeze. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore as hell. And you?” He frowned at remembering the blood covering Ignis’s face. “It looked pretty bad.” 

“It is mending. I should be able to remove the bandages in another week or so.” 

Noctis trailed his fingers down Ignis’s cheek. “And your sight?” 

“It has not returned, nor will it ever, I think.” His features softened. “What matters is we are alive, Noct. I have no regrets.” 

Noctis’s smile turned affectionate. As always, Ignis had a way of clarifying things. And he was right.

He tugged on Ignis’s hand, silently encouraging him to climb into bed. He didn’t care that moving to accommodate Ignis’s height brought little spasms of pain up and down his body. He wanted to feel his warmth, to remind himself that they both were in fact, alive. And, as Noctis’s arms slipped around Ignis’s neck, his lips parting in response to Ignis’s gentle kiss, he knew they’d continue making the most of their lives together. 

Today, and all the mornings after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DA! 
> 
> I know many of you were expecting me to end this with yet more heartbreak and tears (I admit, I had a whole ending pre-planned where BOTH died) but these guys already get shafted in canon. So here is my happily ever after for older ignoct. I thank you all for your comments and kudos! I loved sharing my love for Iggy and Noct with you all. :)


End file.
